


Sometimes It's Just That Easy

by mailroomorder



Series: Portland AU [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1187826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mailroomorder/pseuds/mailroomorder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't know how it happens, but somehow Kurt ends up on the opposite side of the country for college. While there he runs into Blaine, who's fun and happy and never around and always busy. But the closer Kurt gets to Blaine the more he likes him. He just so happens to be lucky enough that Blaine likes him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is completed and a new chapter will be posted once or twice a week.
> 
> A HUGE thank you to my lovely beta, [Alianne](http://alianne.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr Link](http://mailroomorder.tumblr.com/post/76768185137/sometimes-its-just-that-easy-chapter-1)

                They meet at a party.

                Kurt is a sophomore and he’s still living on campus. But his friend Charlie lives off campus and is throwing a get together. Kurt shows up buzzed and with a water bottle full of Franzia. He doesn’t know too many people very well, but he knows many people alright enough, and he’s able to enjoy a few entertaining conversations as his wine dwindles. He’s drinking it slowly because it’s all he has and once he runs out then that will be it, and he doesn’t particularly want to end up sober.

                He’s heading back from the bathroom when two guys, who are drunk and stumbling and can hardly walk, collide and grab onto each other for balance, blocking Kurt’s way out. They’re laughing and apologizing and slurring and cackling and Kurt has to tamely move them to the side so he can walk past.

                “That was easier than I thought it would be,” Kurt hears. He turns to his left and sees a guy there nursing a beer and grinning. When Kurt doesn’t answer the guy points his beer bottle in the direction of the drunks. “I certainly thought they’d take you along for a tumble.”

                “Oh. Yeah,” Kurt says with false bravado. “I hardly made it out alive.”

                “Well I’m glad you did,” the guy replies, taking a step closer. Kurt sees the plaid detail on his unbuttoned shirt, can see how all the blues melt together with the green.

                “If I’m gonna break a bone I plan on doing it a bit more classily.”

                “Yeah? How so,” the man grins.

                “Runway,” Kurt shoots back immediately. They both laugh and Kurt blushes, bowing his head for a second. “I always thought I’d end up breaking a leg on a runway.”

                “You walk the runways much?”

                “God no. I used to have quite the imagination though.” They’re still in the hallway, leaning against the wall and facing each other, and it’s quiet. The guys that were there have left and the party is a distant pulsing in the background. Loud enough to be constantly heard but not loud enough to require Kurt to talk loudly.

                “And that imagination often took you to the Paris runway, I see.”

                “No no,” Kurt corrects, shaking his hand in front of him. “Milan. Come on,” he jokes. “I have class.”

                “I’m so sorry,” the guy smiles. “How could I be so presumptuous?”

                “It’s okay. I forgive you. Just don’t make that mistake again.”

                “You have my word.”

                Kurt laughs and shakes his head. “I’m Kurt, by the way.”

                “Blaine,” the guy says, sticking his hand out for Kurt to shake.

                “It’s nice to meet you,” Kurt responds.

                “So can I assume you go to PSU?”

                “Yeah. Sophomore,” Kurt responds, slightly embarrassed by his young age. Charlie’s a junior, and Kurt knows his roommates are around his age, too. So he just assumes that everyone else will be older than he is.

                “Same,” the guy says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around?”

                “No, I don’t think so. This is my first time at Charlie’s.”

                “Ah,” Blaine exhales. “Are you enjoying the shenanigans?”

                “So far, so good. You?”

                “Yeah. Charlie always throws fun shindigs.”

                “Shindigs?” Kurt laughs.

                “Hey! It’s making a comeback.”

                “I don’t think it is,” Kurt smiles.

                “I’m bringing it back in style,” Blaine responds, voice getting higher.

                “I’ll be sure to help you with that, then.”

                “That’s the spirit!” Blaine says, lifting his beer to clink with Kurt’s water bottle.

                They each take a sip and Kurt finishes off his wine with a little sigh. It’s early yet, and he knows he will be quick to sober up. He’s always less social when he’s sober.

                “All out?” Blaine asks, pointing to Kurt’s bottle.

                “Yeah.”

                “Want a beer?”

                “I uh, didn’t bring anything else.”

                “Come on,” Blaine says, turning around and motioning towards the party. “You can have one of mine.”

                They end up in the kitchen where Blaine opens the fridge and grabs Kurt a beer, popping it open with a bottle opener on his keychain.

                “Cheers,” he says, clinking his half empty bottle with Kurt’s and grabbing another beer for himself. Blaine finishes his beer and puts the empty bottle on the counter, opening his new one. He walks out of the kitchen and motions for Kurt to follow, and walks to the corner of the living room where there’s an absolutely gigantic bean bag chair.

                Blaine plops down on one side, leaning back with his hand behind his head and his other holding his beer on his knee.

                “Jump on, partner.”

                Kurt slowly sits down.

                “So what are you majoring in?” Blaine asks, still reclined on the beanbag chair.

                “Undecided. But I’ve been taking enough Theater and Marketing classes to basically be a major anyway, so I’ll probably go that route. You?”

                “Engineering,” Blaine answers.

                “Wow,” Kurt says, eyebrows raising. “Smarty pants over here. What kind?”

                Blaine laughs. “Environmental.”

                “Green thumb?” Kurt asks.

                “You could say.”

                “Oh no. Quick! What are your thoughts on fracking?” Kurt spitfires.

                “Boo, fracking,” Blaine pouts.

                Kurt laughs and shakes his head.

                “Well I’m glad you’re environmentally conscious, Mr. Environmental Engineer.”

                “Someone’s gotta save the world,” Blaine says, cocky grin blooming on his face.

                Kurt repositions himself so he’s a bit closer to Blaine, and he can see the honey of his eyes glassy and buzzed and relaxed.

                “And you think you can do that?” Kurt smiles.

                “I can certainly try.”

                Kurt pauses for a second, thinking how unique this guy is.

                “Cheers to that,” he responds, clinking his beer bottle with Blaine’s.

                They talk for the next two hours, trading stories about where they’re from and what they like.

                Blaine’s from Oregon; a nice suburb in the corner of the state, a few hours from Portland. Kurt asks him if he ever considered leaving the state and Blaine says, “Yeah. But it’s not time yet,” and leaves it at that. Blaine’s far more interested, it seems, in what made Kurt move across the country to a state that is, in his mind at least, in the middle of nowhere.

                “I don’t know,” Kurt says.

                “No! No. That’s not a good enough answer,” Blaine says.

                They’ve been drinking more of Blaine’s beers, and they are closer together on the bean bag chair, knees brushing and cheeks flushed.

                “Honestly!” Kurt laughs.

                “No no no!” Blaine shakes his head. “Why?!”

                “I think I just ended up here?” Kurt says. “I…I applied to a few places. And when I was on College Board I just…stumbled across this school. And I needed a change. So when I got accepted to Portland State and denied from NYU I just chose this,” Kurt shrugs.

                “Do you regret it?” Blaine asks contemplatively.

                “No,” Kurt responds. “Not at all, actually. I really like it here. It has a much different feeling than Ohio and New York.”

                “God, I’d kill to go to New York,” Blaine exhales.

                “It’s…amazing,” Kurt smiles. “It really, really is.”

                Blaine groans and covers his eyes with his arms, leaning back against the bean bag chair.

                “Of course it is,” he grumbles.

                “Oh shut up,” Kurt laughs. “You’ll get there one day.”

* * *

                He looks for Blaine around campus after that night, but to no avail. Not that Kurt actually thought he’d see Blaine—they’re in totally different colleges at Portland State; Kurt in the School of Arts & Sciences and Blaine in the School of Engineering—but he was hopeful, nevertheless.

                He wants to talk to Charlie about Blaine, but he’s not quite sure how to bring him up without it sounding totally out of place. About a month later, however, Kurt gets an invite to another of one Charlie’s parties and he readily accepts.

                “Is uh, that kid gonna be there?” He asks, trying to sound nonchalant. “Blaine?”

                “Hmm?” Charlie asks, typing away on his phone. He looks up at Kurt and Kurt has to force himself to act normal. “Oh. Uh. No. He has to work.”

                Kurt tries not to look too disappointed.

                It’s not until that weekend, as he’s hanging around Charlie’s house and talking to random people, that Kurt realizes how strange it is that Blaine has to work at midnight on a Saturday night. He doesn’t think about it too much, though, because he gets called over by a group of guys he talks to occasionally. He spends the rest of the night drinking and laughing and taking ridiculous drunk pictures that he both hopes will get uploaded to Facebook and deleted from history permanently.

* * *

                It’s not so tough for Kurt anymore. It’s actually rather quite easy, and he’s both surprised and confused as to how simply going away to college could so totally change his life. He’s left the bad behind him and embraced the good. He’s a member of a few clubs on campus. He volunteers irregularly, but always steps up to the plate when necessary. He makes friends with his Professors and even managed to salvage a friendship with the President of the Student Government Board—even _after_ they slept together.

                The fact that the President of the SGB is gay is another thing that entirely both shocks and awes Kurt.

                But the longer he stays in school, the fewer things seem to surprise him. Everything just becomes…normal. He meets people who are different than him. He learns to think forwardly and how to enact change. He knows how to have a calm debate, and he knows that it’s okay to have entirely different views than someone else. He is actually _friends_ with people who have different views than he does.

                For the first time in his life, Kurt Hummel is accepting the fact that he isn’t always right and that there is so much more to learn. He keeps his eyes open and his ears to the ground.

                But there are still so many things he doesn’t understand. Things he can’t comprehend. Ideas and philosophies and people that he _knows_ exist, but he can’t wrap his head around.

                Blaine is one of those people. He leaves Kurt truly confounded.

* * *

                They become friends gradually. Blaine only goes to two other parties at Charlie’s house that first trimester. But Kurt grabs lunch with Charlie one time and Blaine ends up shooting Charlie a text saying he’s in between classes and asking if Charlie wants to chill.

                “Mind if Blaine comes by?” Charlie asks.

                Kurt has to physically bite his tongue to stop him from screaming out yes.

                “Not at all,” he replies coolly.

                Blaine shows up a few minutes later, book bag in tow. He’s wearing dark, straight legged jeans and a buttoned up plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Kurt wants to roll his eyes and tell Blaine he’s a beanie away from becoming a hipster, but for some reason he can’t say it. For some reason he thinks that Blaine really pulls off the look. Effortlessly.

                “Hey,” Blaine says to Charlie, sitting down at the table. They’re hanging out at a table in a random lounge on campus. It’s a bit too cold to hang outside according to Charlie, so he dragged Kurt inside.

                “Hey!” Blaine says again, looking at Kurt. “Kurt, right? What’s up?!”

                Kurt just sits there for a second gathering himself and trying not to freak out that the totally gorgeous guy from a party over a month ago remembers him.

                “Yeah. Hi. What’s up with you?” He replies.

                “Oh, not much. All work and no play makes Blaine a dull boy.” Blaine unzips his bookbag and pulls out a beat up aluminum water bottle, unscrewing it and taking a sip. It’s not until then that Kurt realizes there’s a bike helmet attached to a loop in his bookbag.

                “Well so long as you don’t take your boredom out with an axe,” Kurt replies.

                “Too tragic.”

                “We wouldn’t want the murder to be tragic, no,” Kurt grins—he can’t help himself.

                Blaine just looks at him and smiles. Really looks at him. Kurt feels his grin get wider.

                They’re pulled out of their reverie by Charlie coughing, “Awkwaaarddd,” and they both laugh.

                “Alright,” Blaine says, turning to Charlie. “I don’t want to make you feel left out. How would you murder someone?”

                “Hit man. Obviously,” Charlie rolls his eye.

                Kurt takes a bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and doesn’t even have to try to enjoy the way his afternoon turned out.

                Blaine has to leave forty minutes later so he can make it to his next class. Before he leaves, though, he asks Kurt for his number. Kurt happily gives it, and a few minutes later he gets a text.

                                  _Shooby Doop_

_What’s the scoop_

_On your plans this Friday afternoon?_

                Kurt doesn’t even hide back his grin when he replies, **Class until 3. Free after that.**

                _I work at 6. Hang out before?_

                **Yeah : )** Kurt responds.

* * *

                They get closer, him and Blaine.

                They hang out whenever they can, which admittedly isn’t too often. Kurt texts him as frequently as he can without seeming creepy or obsessed, asking Blaine to hang out. But more often than not Blaine replies that he can’t. He’s always working, and always at the oddest hours of the day. He’s never around at night, but during the day he has classes. If he doesn’t have classes he can’t hang out because he’s working. It’s cyclical in nature and a bit of an annoyance for Kurt, but he works around it. They grab lunch in between classes, hang out in the evenings before Blaine’s shift, and sometimes they’re able to explore the city of Portland, on those infrequent days Blaine gets weekends off of work. But Kurt gets to see him at least once a week, so he’s happy about that.

Blaine even comes to Charlie’s Halloween party. Kurt doesn’t even have to beg. Blaine actually brings it up to him one evening over Chinese.

“Are you coming to Charlie’s Halloween party, or do you have other plans?”

Kurt hasn’t really thought about it. Charlie told him about it week ago, but he was also invited to another party with his other friends.

“You gonna be there?” Kurt asks between bites of rice.

“Totally. I’m going as Hendrix. I’ve been planning this shit for a month.”

“Count me in,” Kurt smiles.

                Kurt dresses as David Bowie. He has two costumes for Halloween: one for the night before Halloween where he’s partying with his core group of friends, and one for Charlie’s party. He gets ready at Blaine’s place, drinking and laughing and applying makeup, sharing the small bathroom with Blaine. Anytime Blaine has to pass by him he puts a hand on Kurt’s sides, and Kurt has to try hard not to swoon in his drunk state.

                “More blue,” Blaine says, crushing the can of PBR he’s drinking.

                “No more blue!” Kurt says petulantly. “Too much blue. Now time for green.”

                He’s pouting and Blaine hooks his head over Kurt’s shoulder and looks at Kurt’s reflection in the mirror.

                Kurt’s holding his breath. He hasn’t been this close to someone in a while. Physically, yeah. But he feels such a tug towards Blaine and he can’t explain it.

                “Your wig look ridiculous,” Blaine laughs, and Kurt shakes his body, effectively getting Blaine off him.

                “Bad boy!” He chastises.

                Blaine leaves the bathroom shaking his head.

                “You better be going to get your costume on and not grabbing another beer!” Kurt yells.

                Blaine comes back a few seconds later shirtless and with two cold beers in his hand.

                “But I got one for you,” he pouts.

                Kurt playfully slaps his face and grabs a beer.

                “Put on some clothes.”

                “I should just go naked,” Blaine replies.

                “Dear god don’t say that,” Kurt exhales.

                “Why?” Blaine says, lip quirking up. “See something you like?” He comes up beside Kurt, who has turned around and is looking at him.

                “I can say that it would be terribly distracting. Now go get dressed! I’m not drunk enough yet to tell you how hot you are.”

                “Yes sir!” Blaine salutes, turning around and heading for the bedroom.

                Kurt finishes putting his make up on and leaves the bathroom, beer in hand.

                He falls back on the couch, careful not to ruin the placement of his wig, and cracks open his beer. Blaine comes out few minutes later, strutting down the hall.

                “Oh my god,” Kurt laughs, snorting and leaning forward, body heaving with laughs.

                “Hey, sugar,” Blaine says, voice silky smooth.

                “This is so great,” Kurt huffs, unable to catch his breath. The alcohol is already making him looser. “You are amazing,” he says. “I love you.”

                “You’re not so bad yourself, Bowie.”

                Blaine looks like the 70s and flower power and free love. He’s dressed like Jimi Hendrix, with a floral theme throughout his outfit. He has a headband and his long curls are flowing wild, teased with no gel, and every time Blaine cocks his head his hair moves with it. He has a piece of cardboard cut out to look like a guitar, painted meticulously, with a string around it so he can put it around his shoulders and pretend to rock out. The other week he told Kurt that he wants to light it on fire at the end of the party. Kurt’s only mildly sure that he was joking.

                “Fucking brilliant,” Kurt says, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. “How the fuck do you pull this off?” He says to no one in particular.

                “I think the real question is how the fuck did I pull this _on_?”

                “Where do you even get this stuff? How much _money_ did you spend?”

                “Like nothing,” Blaine scoffs.

                Kurt looks at him with doubt, eyebrow raised cynically.

                “Seriously!” Blaine laughs. “Goodwill, man. I don’t think I spent more than twenty bucks. I stole the cardboard and the paint for the guitar. Got the headband from the theatre department—“

                “—You raided the theatre department?!??!” Kurt screams.

                “No!” Blaine laughs, taking a seat on the coffee table directly across from Kurt. “Devyn gave it to me! It’s leftover scraps from the costuming department. She also got me the boots, but those I have to return.”

                “You’re unbelievable,” Kurt shakes his head.

                “I hope that’s a good thing,” Blaine says, leaning forward a bit, head close to Kurt’s.

                “Incredibly so,” Kurt says, a bit breathless.

                It’s his eyes, Kurt thinks. Every time he looks into those eyes he just gets trapped in them. He was always a sucker for smiles—not that Blaine has a bad one at all—but it’s his eyes that got to Kurt first. They’re warm and comforting and full of understanding. They’re quiet and loud and excited and sometimes when he smiles there are little crow’s feet on the end. The color is vibrant, and when Blaine’s drunk they swirl. Kurt can read Blaine’s eyes like a mood ring.

                “Shots?” Blaine asks, head cocked towards the kitchen table where there’s beer and liquor and mixers and chasers and everything in between. Kurt’s always ridiculously surprised with how much alcohol Blaine always has in his house. He’s even more surprised with the fact that it’s all decent stuff. Kurt’s still drinking shitty boxed wine and bottom shelf liquor.

                He assumes that living with three upperclassmen has really benefited Blaine.

* * *

                He gets ridiculously wasted. And so does Blaine.

                They show up to Charlie’s already drunk and laughing and confident, and they are welcomed with open arms. The party has already started by the time they arrive, and when they walk in it’s to claps and hollers from the other impeccably (and poorly) dressed people. Kurt’s been hanging out with Charlie a fair bit recently, so he knows more people at this party than he did at the first one, and he’s able to seamlessly weave himself from group to group—friendly enough with everyone to engage in conversation, but not close enough to want to spend the whole party with the same people.

                Except Blaine. He does spend almost the whole party with him. Whenever they separate it’s only for a few minutes—half an hour at best. And if they’re on opposite sides of the room they’ll occasionally glance up and look at each other, check that the other one is still there.

                They stay drunk, but never cross the line to shitfaced. When the music gets louder and a good song comes on, they dance together. It’s silly, not sensual. Sometimes they’ll grind in ridiculous manners, channeling their inner freshman sorority girl, laughing at how ridiculous they look. Other times they’ll face each other and jump up and down to silly rock anthems from the 90s. And when a Hendrix song comes on, Blaine commandeers the dining room table and puts on an outlandish performance that earns hoots and hollers and screams for an encore. He doesn’t end up lighting his guitar on fire. He loses it instead, having passed it off to some random person who wanted to check it out.

                They stumble back to Blaine’s place around three in the morning, still a little drunk and high on life. With energy buzzing below their skin they get ready for bed. Kurt steals the bathroom and wipes off as much make up as he can before stripping down to his boxer briefs.

                “Pizza!” Blaine says from the kitchen, already undressed.

                There’s a box of pizza on the table with the words _For you Blaine_ written on them

                “My roommates are the best,” Blaine says, eyes dopy and grin wide. He goes up to Kurt and wraps his arms around him from behind. “Mmmm. Pizza.”

                Kurt laughs and opens up the box. “Can I have some?” He asks.

                “You can have half,” Blaine says, pulling himself away from Kurt and grabbing two slices. He folds them in half and gnaws off a huge bite. Kurt laughs and takes a slice for himself. It’s probably an hour old, but Kurt doesn’t care, and neither does Blaine by the looks of it. Within ten minutes the entire pizza is gone and Kurt is effectively feeling his exhaustion hit.

                “I’m gonna grab a water,” he says tiredly, slurring a bit.

                “Me one, too,” Blaine yawns from behind.

                Kurt grabs two glasses and fills them up from the Brita filter in the fridge. He downs his in three gulps and then fills the cup up again.

                “Bed time,” he says, handing Blaine his water and heading to the couch.

                He puts the water on the couch and plops down, burrowing into the pillow. There’s one small fleece blanket at the end of the couch, but he’s too drunk and tired to get it.

                “No.” Blaine says from above him, poking him in the back. “Get up.”

                “Sleeeeep,” Kurt responds, zombie like.

                “You’re not sleeping out here.”

                “Yes I am,” Kurt yawns.

                “Come on,” Blaine says, grabbing Kurt’s arms. “My bed.”

                “Too far,” Kurt says. Not even a second later his head shoots up. “Wait what?”

                “My bed is way more comfortable. This couch is actual trash,” Blaine says.

                “But I’m already laying down,” Kurt replies, snuggling his head back in the pillow. The small, sober part of his brain is kicking him right now, telling him he’s a fucking fool for giving up an opportunity to drunk snuggle with Blaine. But he can’t find the energy to get up.

                “Alright, Mister,” Kurt hears. He feels Blaine pulling him harder and before he knows it he’s standing up, his back to Blaine’s chest.

                “Woah,” he replies. “You’re strong.”

                Blaine chuckles. “Bed time. Before I pass the fuck out here.”

                They walk to Blaine’s room with their waters, and when they get in Blaine’s full sized bed Kurt finds himself the little spoon. He passes out almost immediately. He blames the booze for that.

 


	2. Chapter Two

                “Long time no see, stranger,” Kurt says one afternoon in mid-November.

                He hasn’t seen Blaine for almost a week, which isn’t too strange in and of itself. But they’ve been making a concerted effort to see each other as often as possible, even if it’s only for a few minutes here or there.

                Normally they meet up in the afternoons or evenings in between classes for a half an hour or so and hang out, but Blaine’s been begging off recently. He’s been working more, he tells Kurt.

                “Yeah. I’ve been busy. I’m sorry,” Blaine says apologetically. “But I need to see you for a night before Thanksgiving Break! I don’t want to go a week without you.”

                “I’m actually staying here for Thanksgiving Break,” Kurt replies. They’re sitting the corner of a cafeteria. Neither of them are eating, but it was the only empty seats they could find in the building.

                “Why?” Blaine asks, looking at Kurt with pursed lips.

                “Too much money. Break is only four days anyway. I went last year. But it’s more trouble than it’s worth. I convinced my parents that coming home for Winter Break only is better.”

                “Have Thanksgiving with me,” Blaine offers.

                “At your home?” Kurt asks.

                “No,” Blaine replies. “I’m actually, uh, sticking around here too.”

                “Who are you having Thanksgiving with then?” Kurt asks, leaning his arms on the table.

                “Myself?” Blaine responds.

                Kurt quirks his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

                “Come on,” Blaine deflects. “Have dinner with me! We can cook. Hang out. We’ll have the entire day to ourselves. As a matter of fact, I’m not working Black Friday at all. So we’ll have two whole days to chill.”

                “Sold!” Kurt says, smiling. “It’ll be better than spending it in the dorms.”

                “Fuck that. Bring over a bag and spend the break with me.”

                Kurt thinks about it for a second. Thinks about how awesome it might be to spend four days at Blaine’s place. But it just seems a little too much. Plus, if Blaine’s working then he won’t be there for most of the break anyway. The last thing Kurt wants is to just hang awkwardly in Blaine’s house alone.

                “I’ll spend Thanksgiving,” he cedes. “And we’re buying pumpkin pie.”

                “Yessss,” Blaine groans, leaning his head back behind the chair. “Fucking love pumpkin pie.”

                “I love all pie.”

                “All the pie,” Blaine continues moaning.

                Kurt kicks him below the table and laughs.

                “Yes. All the pie.”

* * *

                Midterms come and go, and Thanksgiving comes quicker than Kurt realizes. Before he knows it all of his friends are heading home and he has an entire dormitory nearly to himself. His roommate leaves a few days early, which Kurt ends up loving because it means he can study for his midterms in his room instead of trekking across campus to the library.

                Once break comes he literally has nothing to do. He has two essays he has to write for the next week, but he finishes both of them over the weekend. He ends up spending all of Monday and Tuesday browsing the internet in his bed. Absolutely no one is on campus and he can’t think of anything he wants to particularly do by himself. He would go shopping, but he wants to save all of his money for Black Friday. Normally he hits the stores bright and early, but this year he plans on doing everything online. He’s found some great deals already.

                He does, however, spend almost the whole time texting Blaine. Blaine picks up an extra shift on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, effectively making him completely busy and unable to hang out. But he texts Kurt.

                _Entertain me?_ Blaine texts Monday at nine at night.

                **How’s work?**

**** _Boring. And I have no homework to finish_

**Shouldn’t you be…working?**

_I am working_

**Hardy har har. I meant instead of texting me**

_Well I could stop texting you if you’d like ; )_

**You know that I meant : p**

**** _I work security. Normally graveyard shifts when the building is closed. I normally just sit at the desk and do homework or watch netflix_

                **I didn’t know you worked security. I thought you worked for the school?**

_I do. Work study for the school. This is my second job_

**You’re ridiculous.**

_Gotta pay the bills. Anyway, entertain me._

**I can juggle?**

_Do that on Thanksgiving_

_Actually, talking about thanksgiving. We should make a plan_

**What sort of plan do you propose, Blaine?**

  _I was thinking we should cook. Like, actual food_

**We can do that**

_Okay good. Cause I’ve already started shopping_

**You have to wait for me! I’m gonna pay**

_Psh yeah. No. I am_

**You have to let me. You’re the one who invited me! I’m the guest**

_I invited you so IIIII wouldn’t be alone on Thanksgiving. Really, you’re doing this for my benefit_

**At least let me pay you for half of it**

_No. But you can buy pumpkin pie_

**Deal**

And that’s what Kurt does. He heads to the food store the next day and stocks up on desserts and drinks and has a bitch of a time taking them home on public transportation. He wishes he could have made cookies instead of buying them, but he lives in a dorm. His only effective cooking strategy is a microwave. And to be honest, it’s not very effective.

                When Thanksgiving comes he wakes up at ten and showers. He struggles to pick out an outfit because he’s not really sure what the dress code is. He doubts Blaine is getting fancy, but he feels like he can’t just show up in a t shirt and jeans. (Well, he actually could. He knows Blaine wouldn’t care. But he can’t bring himself to actually do that). So he picks out his comfiest sweater, a gray cable knit, shawl collared sweater, and a pair of khakis, and heads over to Blaine’s. Blaine told him to come whenever he wanted, but when Kurt pressed for a more accurate time, Blaine texted back

                _The earlier the better. I get off my shift at 7am and will come home and crash til noon. Come over then and make me breakfast : p_

He knows Blaine was joking about the breakfast making, but he still wants to. It’s an excuse to hang out with Blaine, and it’ll give him a chance to actually _cook_ again. He’s missed cooking. He picked up pancake mix at the store the other day, and he puts everything in a large bag and grabs a bus to Blaine’s place.

                He gets there a little after noon, and he knocks on the door to Blaine’s house. A few seconds later Blaine answers. He’s shirtless, wearing only a low-riding pair of sweatpants, and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Kurt has to try hard not to stare at Blaine’s chest, but his eyes keep darting down there to steal a quick look at his hard stomach and small nipples. He never knew he had a thing for nipples until he saw Blaine’s.

                “Hey!” Blaine says, opening the door a little wider and moving to the side so Kurt can come in. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

                “You, too,” Kurt says, walking past. “I hope I didn’t wake you up?”

                “No. I’ve been up for a few minutes, just laying in bed and refusing to move.”

                “Well, I brought pancake mix. So steer me to your kitchen. And I hope you have milk and syrup. And an egg. Fuck,” Kurt says to himself. “I forgot to bring those.” He shakes his head at himself for a second until he hears Blaine chuckle and grab his shoulders from behind, giving them a squeeze.

                “I have that stuff. Don’t worry. But you totally don’t have to make me pancakes!”

                “Well I want to. Now take me to your kitchen!”

                Kurt knows where Blaine’s kitchen is. He’s been there several times. But something about having Blaine actually lead him there, pushing him from behind, makes Kurt’s stomach clinch together in the best of ways.

                Blaine deposits him in the kitchen and leans against the counter.

                “Mind if I watch the master at work?”

                “If you want,” Kurt says, putting the bag on the counter and taking everything out. “Or, you can go shower and brush your teeth and meet me back here in half an hour.”

                Blaine ponders this for a second, bobbing his head and pouting, making the cutest and silliest ‘I’m Thinking’ faces Kurt has ever seen, and he gets lost in that face.

                “I’ll shower,” Blaine finally says, and Kurt blushes when he gets caught staring. “Just so this way you don’t have to smell me.”

                He heads out of the kitchen, patting Kurt’s shoulder as he passes, and heads upstairs. Kurt finishes taking everything out of the bag and takes his sweater off, not wanting to get it dirty. He has a navy blue t shirt underneath that he doesn’t care about. He places the sweater on the couch in the living room and heads back to the kitchen so he can make the pancakes.

                Blaine comes down about twenty minutes later. He’s wearing jeans and a soft pink Henley, rolled up at the sleeves. Kurt has a few pancakes in the oven staying warm. He doesn’t have too much batter left, so he decides to start feeding Blaine now instead of making him wait,

                “I have no idea if you have syrup, but I found butter and sugar,” Kurt says, putting three pancakes on a plate and handing them to Blaine.

                “Have I ever told you I love you? Because I love you,” Blaine says, grabbing a fork out of a drawer and leaning against the counter, shoving food in his mouth.

                There’s no table in the kitchen. No breakfast bar. And Blaine just stands in the corner of the kitchen, holding his plate with one hand and his fork with the other, eating his sugar filled pancakes.

                “God these are so good,” he moans when Kurt puts two more on his plate.

                Kurt grabs a plate for himself, trying not to smile too widely at Blaine’s compliments, and puts a few pancakes on his plate, spreading butter on them and leaning against the counter a few feet from Blaine.

                “So. Plans for today?” Kurt asks, cutting a piece off of his pancake.

                “Football,” Blaine says.

                Kurt’s immediate reaction is a horrified stare, his eyes wide open and his mouth open.

                “Geeze,” Blaine laughs. “I’m kidding.” He shakes his head and chuckles to himself, and Kurt continues to stare at him, horrified.

                “Please dear god no,” he says.

                “No football. I promise. I was thinking we could hang out for a bit and cook together. Then eat, hang out some more. All that jazz.”

                “You a good cook?” Kurt asks, spearing his pancake with his fork.

                “I can find my way around a kitchen,” Blaine replies. “I bought two Cornish hens. Figure we could make them two different ways and hope one turns out fine. And loads of green beans. Green bean casserole is my shit. I can’t have a holiday without it,” Blaine says.

                Kurt just stands staring at his plate smiling, his cheeks going rosy.

                “That sounds great,” he replies, glancing up.

                “Really?” Blaine asks, and Kurt can’t look away.

                “Yeah,” he whispers back, blushing.

                They stay there for a few seconds, pancakes forgotten, until Kurt comes back to himself.

                “So uh, where are your roommates?” He asks. 

                “They all went back to their families.”

                “Why didn’t you?” Kurt asks.

                “I uhm, don’t normally go home for Thanksgiving.”

                “Too far away?”

                “You could say that,” Blaine replies, turning around to put his plate in the sink.

                “Well I’m glad I get you for Thanksgiving.” Kurt’s eyes immediately go wide and he throws his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t just say that,” he spits out.

                Blaine just laughs and takes a step forward, grabbing Kurt’s empty plate out of his hand and taking it back to the sink.

                “In the spirit of honesty, then,” he says, turning the sink on and grabbing the sponge. His back is to Kurt, and Kurt is grateful for that. “I’m glad I get to spend Thanksgiving with you.”

                After the dishes are done they hang out in the living room. Blaine brings his guitar down and teaches Kurt a few simple chords and notes. After an hour Kurt can effectively play a really simplified version of Jingle Bells, his fingers are starting to hurt and he swears they’re going to blister over soon, and Blaine is close enough to Kurt that their knees touch. They’re sitting on the ground pretzel style, and every so often Blaine grabs Kurt’s left hand and rearranges his fingers into a new chord.

                When Kurt gets tired of playing he hands the guitar over to Blaine and makes him play something. He’s never heard Blaine play guitar, and Blaine claims to not be too good. He says it’s just something he fools around with.

                “I bought the guitar as an act of rebellion. I was nineteen and I needed something to pass the time. I think what I really needed was to be punk on the side.”

                “What do you mean?” Kurt asks as Blaine strums a few chords, tuning the guitar.

                “Oh you know,” Blaine says. “I was a pretty good kid. I had to be. But for a while I was really angry. I think most teenagers are, y’know?” He says, looking up at Kurt, eyebrows quirked.

                Kurt just nods, taking in as much information as he can. Blaine so very rarely talks about himself.

                “Anyway. As an act of rebellion I bought this guitar at a pawn shop. Spent like three paychecks on it. Taught myself. Learned all the punk songs I could. Wrote my own really bad songs—and before you ask,” Blaine smiles, “I don’t remember any of them.”

                Kurt laughs. “We’ll revisit that topic later,” he smiles. “But go on.”           

                “Yeah. So. I suffered for it for a month. Had absolutely no money. Had to skip a bunch of meals. But it helped a lot. I’d wake up early with a smile and go to work and be happy, and then I’d come home and take the guitar out and get all of my aggression out. I’d just fucking pound away on this thing,” Blaine says, his soft music still filling the air. “And it helped me stay well adjusted. Gave me a way to express myself, as silly as that sounds.”

                “That doesn’t sound silly,” Kurt says. “That’s what singing was for me.”

                Blaine smiles, staring at his guitar, lost in his own world a bit, Kurt thinks.

                “I had some friends teach me after a while, when I realize I needed help and couldn’t just teach myself everything.”

                They sit in silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s company and listening to Blaine quietly strumming.

                “Your roommate never got pissed at you for playing at night?” Kurt asks. He knows his roommate—hell, his whole _dorm_ —would shoot him for pounding away on a guitar every night.

                “It wasn’t too late. I’d only go real hard when she wasn’t home. Late at night I just played softly.”

                “She?” Kurt asks.

                “Elaine,” Blaine says, smiling softly.

                “How was your roommate a girl?”

                “What?” Blaine asks, his fingers halting and the music stopping suddenly.

                “Your roommate,” Kurt continues. “How was your roommate a girl? You can’t mix sexes in dorms.”

                “Oh,” Blaine says. “I didn’t live in a dorm.”

                “You didn’t live in a dorm freshman year? I thought you had to, unless you like, lived at home.”

                “Kurt, I’m twenty-two. You know that right?”

                “What?” Kurt says. Blaine’s not twenty-two. He’s a sophomore. He’s twenty.

                “You didn’t know that?”

                “Know what?”

                “Oh wow,” Blaine says, seemingly taken aback.

                “Know what?” Kurt presses.

                “Wow. I uhm. Hmm,” Blaine says, eyes suddenly staring into nowhere.

                “I took two years off after high school,” he says, looking back at Kurt. “I worked, saved some money so I could go to school.”

                “Oh,” Kurt says, feeling awkward. He crosses his arms and squeezes tight. “Cool,” he says, not looking at Blaine.

                After a second the music picks up again, and Kurt lies down on the carpet taking in the sounds of the guitar, letting himself get lost in the music and imagining a nineteen year old Blaine, fresh faced and angry, playing this same tune.

* * *

                They start making dinner around four in the afternoon. Mainly because they know they’re going to fuck up at some point, so they want to have a little extra time to mess up. They’re hoping to have dinner ready around seven at night.

                Blaine pulls out all of the food he bought and sets it on the counter. It’s a mix of meat and vegetables and seasonings and herbs, and Kurt can see a case of beer and a bottle of wine out of the corner of his eye and he suddenly feels so insanely guilty that the only things he brought were breakfast and dessert. He tries to hand Blaine fifty dollars, because he knows all of this had to add up to well over a hundred, but Blaine refuses. Not even politely.

                “No,” he says firmly, closing Kurt’s fist around the money. “I told you, this is on me. I want you to have a good Thanksgiving.”

                “Blaine,” Kurt replies. “I doubt that paying for half the groceries is going to suddenly turn my Thanksgiving into a terribly mawkish one.”

                “Still,” Blaine says, as if pleading. “Please let me do this. I want to.”

                Kurt stands there for a second, with Blaine’s hand still enclosed around his fist.

                “Fine,” he says. “But I’m doing the dishes.”

                “You are definitely not going to hear any complaints out of me about that one,” Blaine says, his signature grin plastered on his face.

                Kurt shakes his head and pockets his money. Part of him is considering hiding it in Blaine’s drawer or putting it on top of his desk later in the evening. But for now he’ll start cleaning vegetables and spicing hens.

* * *

                Making dinner is by all accounts a joyous occasion. It’s messy and greasy and sticky and slippery, and Kurt accidentally cuts himself with a knife and Blaine helps him clean it off, laughing at him when he freaks out over having peroxide poured on it. It’s thankfully a small cut, but the only Band-Aids Blaine has have Mickey Mouse on them. Kurt laughs when he sees them, lightly and affectionately slapping Blaine across the cheek.

                “Idiot,” he murmurs to himself, grabbing the proffered bandage and heading out of the bathroom.

                Seasoning the Cornish hens leads to Blaine shoving his hand up one and turning it into a puppet. Kurt doesn’t want to follow his lead, but he ends up doing it anyway, and they break out in hysterics a few minutes in, crowding the sink and washing their hands together, hips knocking and sides touching.

                When the hens are in the oven Blaine starts making the green bean casserole.

                “Here,” Blaine says, handing Kurt a plastic bag. “Make the stuffing.”

                “Aye aye, Cap’n,” Kurt replies.

                He twirls around Blaine in order to get to the fridge and grabs the bowl of veggies that he and Blaine had chopped earlier, then grabs a pan from over Blaine’s head.

                “Duck,” he says, putting his hand on Blaine’s shoulder and reaching over him.

                Blaine does, still chopping the ends off green beans.

                Kurt goes back to the stove and turns a burner on, placing the large pan on top. He’s throwing the veggies in when he hears Blaine humming an unfamiliar tune.

                “What is that?” Kurt asks.

                “Ann Sexton. Sang R&B in the seventies.”

                “I like it,” Kurt replies.

                “Yeah?” Blaine asks, turning around and looking at Kurt. “I can put the album on after dinner if you want. Or during dinner. Fill the silence.”

                “That sounds nice,” Kurt says, stirring the vegetables.

                When they sit down to dinner an hour later, Blaine puts the record on. Ann’s voice fills the air, loud enough to hear but quiet enough to be unobtrusive. Kurt puts his sweater back on and Blaine changes his shirt to a dark red Henley, and Kurt shakes his head.

                “What?!” Blaine asks.

                “Sometimes I wonder if you own anything else.”

                “I’m trying to look nice for you,” Blaine smiles. “But I could put a ratty ol’ t-shirt on if you’d like.”

                “Nah. Save that for tomorrow.”

                “Yes, Sir!” Blaine salutes, running to the kitchen and grabbing some wine.

                The table is completely filled with their creations, and Kurt doubts they’ll be able to finish it all in one night. But that’s the beauty of Thanksgiving, he thinks. Leftovers. And there are sure to be leftovers.

                The conversation flows freely. They stick to lighter subjects and pop culture. Kurt tells stories about his childhood and tea parties and a half-hearted attempt at fencing. They talk after the wine is gone, after the food is put away. Blaine changes albums three times, and when the fourth one finishes he requests a change of atmosphere and they move to the couch, each lying on opposite sides, their legs entangled.

                “I don’t think I’ll be able to ever move again,” Kurt says.

                “Don’t think like that,” Blaine groans, moving around a bit until he finds a comfortable position. “We still have pie.”

                “Mmmmm. Pie.”

                “And cookies.”

                “I’m gonna need a massive spin class to not feel guilty about tonight.”

                “You take spin classes?” Blaine asks, lifting his head up from the arm rest and looking at Kurt.

                “Yeah,” Kurt responds.

                “Like, actual classes. Not just spinning on your own.”

                “Not normally but I have.”

                Kurt sees Blaine’s dubious expression, and he’s quick to defend himself.

                “Hey! I burn more calories when I have an instructor. It’s a better work out.”

                Blaine laughs and throws an arm over his forehead. “I trust you.”

                “Not one for gyms?”

                “I run. Do pushups and sit ups. I go to the school gym when I can and work with weights. I just got used to having to exercise on my own.”

                “I hate running. I really do. I’ll do it anyway, but I fucking hate it.”

                “We should run now,” Blaine says, voice airy.

                “Chyeah. I’ll end up puking.”

                “I’ll hold your hair back.”

                “Thanks, Darling.”

                “So can I ask you a personal question?” Blaine asks.

                “Yeah,” Kurt answers, a little weary.

                “You don’t have to answer. I’m just curious.”

                “Ask away.”

                “How did your parents take it when you came out?”

                Kurt thinks on it for a few seconds, mainly because he’s never been asked that question before, at least not like that.

                “My Dad said he already knew, but that he loved me,” Kurt finally decides on, rolling his tongue in his mouth. “There was some awkwardness after that I guess. He was always supportive, but he didn’t really know _how_ to be supportive. He was sometimes a bit too gung-ho about things.”

                “Like what?” Blaine asks.

                “Like sex. He wanted to be prepared I think, so he researched everything and gave me the most descriptive and mortifying sex talk ever. Complete with pamphlets. And about being myself. He was always telling me that I should be myself and not let people stop me, and I was just like, ‘Aight Dad. I know. Ain’t no one stoppin’ me. You don’t have to get all preachy on me.’ But it was never bad. It just took him a year or so where he was super crazy about making sure I knew he loved me.”

                “He sounds like a great guy,” Blaine says solemnly.

                Kurt takes a large breath. “Yeah,” he says, exhaling. “He really is.”

                “And your mom?” Blaine asks.

                “Dead. When I was seven. But I’m sure she knew and didn’t care. My Dad tells me that when I was growing up my mom always fought for my right to wear nail polish or princess dresses and have tea parties. I was kind of a walking stereotype,” he smiles.

                Blaine laughs. “I’d kill to see those pictures.”

                “They’re on Facebook,” Kurt offers.

                “I’ll check them out.”

                “What about you?” Kurt asks.

                They sit in silence for a little longer, and Kurt assumes that Blaine is taking his time formulating an answer.

                “I have a younger sister,” he says. And Kurt’s a bit surprised at the turn the story takes. “She’s seven years younger than me. I always had to babysit her and take care of her, and she really was annoying,” Blaine says softly. “But I loved her. Anyway,” he continues. “I had this boyfriend. My _first_ boyfriend. I was seventeen and I was supposed to be babysitting her while my parents were out. It was a Saturday night and Kev was over and we were sitting on my bed talking and holding hands and stealing kisses on the cheek. We were dating for like, two weeks,” Blaine laughs. “And Hope was supposed to be asleep. But she wasn’t. And she walked up on us being all fumbly and kissing. Really tame.”

                “Yeah?” Kurt asks, hoping to help push the story along.

                “I put her back to bed and made her promise not to tell anyone.”

                Kurt feels the heat of their legs intertwined, a constant pressure that reminds him they’re interconnected.

                “The worst way to keep a secret is by telling a ten year old it’s a secret. The minute she woke up the next day she told my parents she caught me k-i-s-s-i-n-g.”

                “Oo,” Kurt exhales. “And how’d that go?”

                “Eh. About as good as it could go, I guess,” Blaine says, sitting up. “Pie time?” He asks.

                “Yeah,” Kurt says, staying in his position. “Bring me pie.”

                “No no no,” Blaine laughs. “You have to come get the pie.”

                “Shouldn’t we put it in the oven?” Kurt asks.

                “I don’t know,” Blaine says. “Are you supposed to put pumpkin pie in the oven?”

                Kurt considers the idea for a moment. “I’m honestly not sure.”

                “Should we put half of it in the oven and eat the other half cold?”

                “Yeah,” Kurt says, sticking his hand out for Blaine to grab and pull him up. “Let’s do a science experiment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be posted in 3 days. Hope you enjoyed.


	3. Chapter Three

                Blaine is back in work mode after Black Friday, so Kurt isn’t able to see him until almost a week later.

                But they text a lot, which is normal. However, something seems…different. Kurt can’t quite put his finger on it, but he feels closer to Blaine.

                He spent Thanksgiving night on Blaine’s couch, and Blaine was able to convince him to spend Friday night, too. They shared Blaine’s bed. Mainly because they were lying on it smoking weed and after demolishing a pizza, Kurt passed out. There wasn’t any cuddling or wandering hands, and they woke up on opposite sides of the full sized bed, but it was warm and comfortable and fun.

                When he and Blaine do meet up the next Thursday it’s for lunch in between classes. They sit at a table in the corner of a University building, legs occasionally knocking and eyes constantly connected.

                “Weekend plans?” Kurt asks, hoping it isn’t obvious how desperate he is.

                “Work,” Blaine says apologetically.

                “All weekend?” Kurt asks again.

                “Yeah. I picked up an extra shift Saturday.”

                “So you’re working, what, like sixteen hours on Saturday?”

                “Ugh. Yeah. Don’t remind me,” Blaine says, chomping down on his sandwich.

                “And Sunday?”

                Blaine rocks his head back and forth, thinking, and suddenly Kurt feels like he’s being too clingy.

                “I’m probably gonna be sleeping the whole day. But we could do dinner if you want?”

                “That’d be great,” Kurt exhales.

                “Can we cook, though?” Blaine asks, food hanging mid-air.

                “Hmm?”

                “Instead of going out. I have to save money. Cut corners. I’ve been couponing,” he says.

                “You have an organizer and everything?” Kurt grins back.

                “The sad thing is I’m one step away from that. Shoot me, I’m so old.”

                Kurt laughs.

                “We can cook. I’ll pick up some ground meat or something. Make burgers.”

                “Uhhh,” Blaine groans. “That sounds so much better than the thirty cent box of pasta I was gonna cook.”

                “Buuuuuuuuurgeeerrrssss,” Kurt moans.

                “Stop it. You’re spoiling me,” Blaine grins.

                “Never.”

* * *

                The burgers are awesome.

                They’re a little burnt and a little dry, and they’re doused in ketchup to cancel that out. But they’re sitting across the table from each other talking and laughing and their feet occasionally catch each other’s.

                “Come to the party Friday night!” Kurt whines. “Pleeaassee?” He pouts for added effect.

                “I can’t,” Blaine says through bites of his burger. He grabs a fry off his plate and shoves it in his mouth. “I have to work.”

                “But you worked this weekend!” Kurt defends. “Have a little fun.”

                “I wish I could,” Blaine says almost seriously, and Kurt’s taken for a bit of a shock.

                “You can,” he recovers. “Request off. See if someone can cover your shift.”

                “I really can’t,” Blaine continues. “I have to pick up a few extra shifts as it is.”

                “Really?” Kurt asks.

                That seems absurd. Blaine’s worked doubles on Saturdays for the past month.

                “I have to. Winter Break is coming up soon and I don’t work at the lab during break. So I’m trying to stack up on paychecks.”

                “Are you working security over break?” Kurt asks.

                “Yeah. Hopefully picking up a few extra shifts then, too. Put some extra money in the bank. It’ll give me more freedom to hang out with you, then,” he smiles cockily.

                “You’re not going home for Christmas?”

                “Nah. I’m sticking around the area.”

                “What about your family?” Kurt asks, eyebrows quirked.

                “I uh, celebrate Christmas with Elaine.”

                “Who’s Elaine?”

                “My old…roommate?” Blaine answers. “I told you about her at Thanksgiving. I lived with her after high school.”

                Kurt takes another bite of his fries before continuing.

                “Why don’t you celebrate Christmas with your family?” He asks conversationally.

                Blaine puts the rest of his burger down on the plate and takes a deep breath. Kurt’s not sure what’s going to happen next, and he’s a bit anxious. He lays his hands in his lap and clasps them, squeezing hard.

                “I don’t really get on with my family,” Blaine replies tensely. “We don’t really…talk,” he finishes.

                “Oh,” Kurt says.

                There are so many questions weaving in and out of his head, but he doesn’t know if he can bring them up. He’s not sure if it’s appropriate to ask Blaine any follow up questions. He’s not sure what the correct way to handle this situation is. So he just sits in his seat and stares at his plate and plays with his food.

                “Kurt,” Blaine exhales. “Can this not be weird?”

                “It’s not weird,” Kurt mutters to his mustard.

                “Kurt,” Blaine says again, stronger. “Look at me.”

                Kurt looks up, his eyes a little wet. Blaine’s face is sober. There’s no hint of tears or anguish.

                “Hang out with me this week?” Blaine asks.

                “Of course,” Kurt replies.

                The rest of the night is a bit awkward. They move on to different topics of conversation, but Kurt can’t really shake the feeling that a topic was broached prematurely, that he forced Blaine into revealing a part of himself that he wasn’t ready for. He feels guilty and like he can’t stand on even ground.

                They spend the rest of the night cuddled on the couch watching a 90s TV show. Blaine’s arm is around Kurt’s shoulder and Kurt is leaning into him.

                It’s the first time they’ve ever cuddled soberly and Kurt’s too stressed to even enjoy it.

                When he leaves that night at eleven, Blaine insists on taking him home.

                “I can get home, Blaine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

                “I don’t worry about you. I just want to spend a few more minutes with you.”

                They grab a bus together a few blocks down from Blaine’s house, and they sit next to each other talking quietly until Kurt’s stop.

                Blaine walks with him the few blocks to Kurt’s dorm, and when they get there they hang out next to the entrance, leaning against the cement wall.

                Kurt’s back is against the wall and Blaine is in front of him, leaning into him. He grabs Kurt’s hand and Kurt can’t help but take a quick inhale of breath

                “I have a crush on you,” Blaine says, staring at their gloved hands.

                Kurt wants to interlace their fingers but he can’t move, suddenly frozen in place.

                “Go out on a date with me?” Blaine asks, voice pinched as if he were in pain, eyebrows furrowed. He’s rocking up and down on his feet, apparently unable to stay still.

                “I’d love to,” Kurt whispers back, his breath visible in the air.

                They stand there for a few seconds, hands clasped, until Blaine squeezes them and lets them go.

                “Sleep well,” he says to Kurt, backing away.

                Kurt swipes himself into his dorm and heads to his room. It isn’t until he gets there that he breaks out into a smile and squeals like a thirteen year old girl.

                “What’s up with you?” His roommate asks from his desk.

                “Blaine just asked me out!” Kurt squeaks.

                “Awesome,” his roommate says.

                “Completely,” Kurt grins, falling back on his bed.

* * *

                The date doesn’t happen for a while. They still hang out in between classes, but Blaine doesn’t have a lot of free time. They have two more weeks until the end of the trimester, and finals are looming over head. Everyone has exams and essays and projects, and the stress is practically visible.

                The end of the trimester is a Saturday, but Kurt’s last final is a Tuesday. When he booked his plane tickets home over a month ago, he wasn’t sure of his exam schedule, so his flight isn’t until Sunday morning. When he figured out his last exam was on a Tuesday, he actually tried to switch his flight to an earlier date. But in the end it works out better for him staying in Portland longer. Because Blaine’s last final is a Thursday, and on Friday they’re going out on a date.

                Blaine insists on being a gentleman. He tells Kurt under no uncertain terms that he will pick Kurt up at his door and drop him off after the date, even though Kurt insists that it’s easier if they just meet somewhere.

                “I don’t care what’s _easier_ ,” Blaine says one night before finals week. They’re at the library in a private study room that they were able to commandeer a few days ago. The library is open 24/7, and when they found this room was free they grabbed it. They invite their friends to come and study with them, and they’ve somehow managed to keep someone in the room at all hours of the day. It’s seriously a god send having this room to study in. The library is packed and there’s no way they’d be able to find a table by now.

                Kurt and Blaine are sitting next to each other at one end of the table. At the other end are two of Kurt’s friends and one of Blaine’s, so they keep their voices quiet while they talk, not wanting to disturb anyone.

                “Yeah, but—“

“No buts. I’m going to pick you up.”

                “What’s the dress code?” Kurt whispers.

                “Something clean.”

                “I need more to work with, Blaine,” Kurt hisses.

                “It’s just gonna be a fun night together, Kurt. You don’t have to get dressed up. Just be comfortable.”

                “And look good,” Kurt says to himself.

                “Like that’ll be a problem,” Blaine replies.

                Kurt immediately turns his head towards Blaine, cheeks filling with blood.

                “You think I look good?” He asks, voice pinched high.

                “Oh my god, seriously?!” Blaine looks at him, dumbfounded. “Kurt, you are _so_ good looking it’s ridiculous.”

                Kurt coughs, cheeks not getting any whiter, as a smile blooms on his face.

                He’s never really felt shy around Blaine before, but he can’t help it now. He avoids Blaine’s gaze, looking back at his textbook.

                “You’re pretty cute yourself,” he mumbles.

                He feels Blaine knock their shoulders together, pushing their sides next to each other, and Kurt keeps on smiling.

                “Awesome,” Blaine laughs.

                They both let out huffs of air, trying not to laugh too loudly at their awkwardness, but it’s hard not to.

                In the end Kurt’s friend loudly cough/screams “Assholes,” and Kurt and Blaine laugh some more before getting back to their studying, their feet wrapped around each other under the table.

* * *

                “So I have to warn you,” Blaine says as way of greeting that Friday afternoon when Kurt walks out of his dorm to meet Blaine outside. “I believe in unconventional dates.”

                “I feel like this is turning into an episode of the Bachelor where we ride a private jet and go scuba diving.”

                “I promise, nothing so lavish. However, it’s going to be more than just a classic ‘dinner and a movie.’”

                “Good. Cause I didn’t bring my scuba gear,” Kurt laughs.

                They begin walking down the street, Kurt following Blaine’s lead.

                “Scuba gear not necessary. But once the weather gets warm I’d love to drag you out onto a trail.”

                “You said you run, yeah?” Kurt asks.

                “When I can, yeah.”

                “Well, you couldn’t pay me to run in this weather. But when it’s nice outside I’d love to take a jog with you,” Kurt says, bumping his shoulder into Blaine’s.

                “Yeah?” Blaine smiles.

                “Yeah.”

                Blaine links their arms together and leads them to a bus stop.

                The ride is pretty short, and when it’s their stop Blaine whispers to him, “This is us,” and stands up, motioning for Kurt to walk in front of him. When they get off the bus, Blaine leads him in the right direction with a soft hand on his lower back.

                “An art gallery?” Kurt says, surprised.

                “An art gallery,” Blaine confirms. They’re standing outside looking at the sign, Blaine’s hand still on Kurt’s back. “Trust me. I think you’re really going to like this.”

                Blaine opens the door for Kurt, and Kurt murmurs, “Ever the gentleman.”

                “I have to impress my date,” Blaine replies.

                “I don’t recall doors being opened for me before,” Kurt jokes.

                “New chapter in my life,” Blaine interjects.

                Kurt laughs and they walk up to the front desk.

                “We’re here for the class?” Blaine tells the girl.

                “You can head on back,” she says. “It’s in the studio—you’ll see signs.”

                “Thanks,” Blaine smiles, leading Kurt back.

                “I feel like we’re going to our death,” Kurt says.

                It’s an offbeat gallery, with glass designs lining the floor, sitting atop pedestals. The paint on the walls is peeling off and the piping is exposed on the ceiling. The floor is dirty and scuffed after years of use.

                “At least we’ll die together,” Blaine says.

                They enter the studio by way of giant metal door with a sign that says, “WARNING!”

                “That looks promising,” Kurt says.

                When they enter there are a few other people sitting around a large table.

                The room is well lit, with blow torches and kilns and other machinery that Kurt has never seen.

                After a few minutes when more people enter, a man Kurt didn’t see before begins to talk. He’s probably in his forties, hair buzzed, dirty navy overalls hanging off him.

                “I assume everyone is here for the Glass Blowing course?”

                Everyone nods and murmurs yes, and Kurt’s eyes go wide. He turns to Blaine and whispers, “Glass blowing?!”

                “I thought it would be fun,” Blaine whispers back, voice sounding anxious.

                Kurt turns back to the instructor and listens as he talks about glass blowing and safety, occasionally throwing in a silly anecdote.

                “You have a few options to pick from today,” the instructor continues. “A paper weight, a Christmas ornament, or a small decorative cylinder that you can put marbles in or grow flowers, use to hold your keys.”

                He hands out a piece of paper for everyone to write down what they want, and tells them he’ll be back in a minute.

                “I don’t know what to do!” Kurt says to Blaine.

                “I’m doing a Christmas ornament, if that helps?”

                “I don’t know. Hmm.”

                “Well, which would you be more likely to use?”

                “Christmas ornament or cup.”

                “Eenie Meenie Miney Mo?” Blaine suggests.

                “Nah. I’ll do the cup. This way we each do different things and can see how they’re both made.”

                “Radical,” Blaine says.

                “Who the fuck are you?” Kurt laughs, shaking his head. “Radical…” He repeats to himself.

                The instructor comes back with four other people, and they all get to work. The patrons are put into small groups and assigned a professional glassblower. Kurt and Blaine are put together with two other people, and they sit at a table talking to their instructor. He looks young, like he could be just fresh out of college. He has sandy blonde hair and a wicked smile.

                He talks to them more about safety and provides them with goggles and gloves, and then he gives them a demonstration, leading them to the part of the room that has all the tools and machinery.

                Kurt stands there entranced at the way the glass is formed and melted and reformed. He watches the colors melt together with precision. When the instructor asks if anyone wants to try, Kurt lifts his head immediately and declares, “Me!”

                He stands in front of the instructor and starts manipulating the glass with the instructor’s guidance. He listens to what the teacher is saying about technique, and asks Kurt a few questions.

                “Do you want to swirl color?” He asks. And Kurt says yes.

                From there he shows Kurt how to swirl color. He demonstrates, with Kurt still helping, how to change the shape from circular to ovular and back to circular, and Kurt is completely awed at the way something he sees as so stable can be so elastic.

                Afterwards the instructor shows them the piece of glass. “It’s not finished,” he says. “But I think you all get the gist of it. You all ready to make your own stuff now?”

                They all nod their heads as the teacher sets everything up again. Kurt and Blaine let the other two people go first, and when it’s their turn Kurt insists that Blaine goes.

                “I already had a chance to try it out. You go.”

                Blaine nods and heads up to the instructor.

                Kurt watches the entire time. He watches as Blaine picks out the colors and manipulates the glass. He watches Blaine smile and occasionally squeak, “This is so cool!”

                And when the glass is done and drying, he watches as Blaine skips to him and envelopes him in a hug. “Glass is awesome,” he declares.

                “ _You’re_ awesome,” Kurt replies, and he disentangles himself and walks back to the instructor so he can try his hand at glassblowing for a second time.

                When everything is done and they can all take their newly made glass with them, almost six hours has passed. It’s six at night and Kurt is starving.

                “So I was thinking,” Blaine says, arm linked with Kurt’s while he holds the bag with their glass in it with the other hand. “We could go grab food?”

                “Absolutely,” Kurt groans. “I think my stomach has started eating itself.”

                “Food cart?” Blaine asks.

                “Sounds good to me,” Kurt replies, and they walk a few more blocks until they get to an amazing food cart.

                “What do you want?” Blaine asks.

                They have a few options, and Kurt looks around. Part of him feels like he should pick something small and easy to eat. But his stomach keeps growling at him.

                “Fuck it,” he says to himself. “Burger. A huge fucking greasy burger.”

                “That sounds perfect,” Blaine moans.

                They get in line and each order burgers, drinks, and a side of fries. When Blaine goes to pay for it, Kurt interjects.

                “Let me,” he says. “You paid for the glassblowing thing.”

                “I know. But I want to pay for this, too. I’m trying to woo you, dammit!” He says, fake anger tinting his voice.

“I’m tough to woo,” Kurt plays along.

Blaine hands the man in the truck some money.

“Am I doing an okay job so far?” Blaine asks.

“I’d say you’re more than adequate.”

They stand in the cold huddled together while they wait for their food, and when they get it they look at each other for a second, not sure what to do.

                “We can eat it here or we can take it back to my place?” Blaine says.

                Blaine’s place is at least twenty minutes from where they are, and that’s only if they get a bus immediately.

                “I feel like we should eat at a table,” Kurt starts out. “But there’s no fucking way I can go that long smelling this food and not eating it.”

                “Split a burger while we wait for the bus and eat the rest at home?” Blaine asks.

                “Perfect.”

                They walk to the bus stop as Blaine pulls out his cheeseburger, unwrapping it and taking a bite. He passes it to Kurt while he chews. When half the burger is gone he opens up his drink and takes a sip, handing it to Kurt. They finish the burger by the time the get to the bus stop.

                “That was perfect,” Kurt says, tossing the wrapping into the trash.

                They grab a bus within a few minutes and head back to Blaine’s place. When they get there they head straight for the table and dig into the rest of their food, not even stopping to warm it up.

                “I could eat a fucking cow,” Blaine says in between bites of fries.

                He and Kurt are sitting next to each other so they can pass the burger back and forth.

                Blaine squeezes a bunch of ketchup packets onto the wrapping of the burger so they can dip, and he ends up with a huge glob of ketchup on his lips, dripping down onto his chin. He licks it off with his tongue and then runs the back of his hands over his mouth.

                “You know,” he says. “I’m happy we’re already friends. Cause now I don’t have to act like a functioning member of society.”

                “Same goes for me,” Kurt says, letting out a burp. It’s small and short and high pitched, and afterwards he laughs. “I was trying to be disgustingly manly. Guess that didn’t work.”

                “I got your back,” Blaine says, letting out a loud burp.

                “We’re so disgusting,” Kurt laughs.

                “Totally disgusting,” Blaine agrees, shoving the last piece of burger into his mouth.

                When they finish everything Blaine still complains that he’s hungry. So he heads into the kitchen and brings back a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, and they spend the rest of the night on the couch eating and talking, a record on in the background to fill the room.

                “What are you going to do when you’re back in Ohio?” Blaine asks. They’re sitting on the couch pretzel style, knees touching and hands occasionally linked.

                “Hang out with friends. Go to work with my dad,” Kurt shrugs.

                “What does he do?” Blaine asks.

                “He’s a mechanic,” Kurt says.

                “You can fix cars?”

                “God no,” Kurt shoots back. “I can change the oil. Replace tires. Assist with inspections. I can also run the office so my dad can spend more time in the garage fixing cars. Basically I’m just an extra hand. And I like the people he works with, so it’s nice to catch up with them. My dad owns his own garage, so being the boss’s kid always granted me extra privileges.”

                Blaine smiles, his head leaning against the back of the couch.

                “What about you?” Kurt asks.

                Blaine shrugs. “I’ll stick around here and pick up some extra shifts. I’m going to spend Christmas week with Elaine and her family and then take a trip to Seattle with her son Michael. After that I’ll come back here and work.

                “Her son?” Kurt asks.

                “Yeah.”

                “How old is Elaine?” Kurt asks, eyebrows quirked in confusion.

                He always pictured Elaine as being college aged, maybe a year or two older.

                “Oh god. I don’t know. Our parents’ age,” Blaine responds. “One never asks a woman’s age,” he jokes.

                “You lived with a fifty year old?”

                “Yeah,” Blaine shrugs again.

                “That wasn’t…weird?”

                Kurt watches Blaine sit in silence for a second, eyes closed as he thinks.

                “Michael was my best friend growing up. We met in middle school and became instantly close. His parents divorced when he was younger, and it was just him, his mom, and his brothers. I practically grew up at his house. His mom was this awesome lady. She’s this small woman, religious, loves to laugh, really strong willed. She always had an art project lying around, always encouraged her sons to follow their dreams and make mistakes.”

                “She sounds nice,” Kurt says.

                “She is. You’d like her, I think.”

                Kurt nods his head.

                “Anyway,” Blaine continues, eyes opening and looking into Kurt’s. “I moved in with her my senior year of high school, basically. Or really, I switched between my house and her house. And when I graduated I just stayed there for good.”

                “Why?” Kurt asks without thinking.

                He watches Blaine swallow, watches his eyes close again and blink as a pained expression takes control of his face, and Kurt grabs his hand in his own and squeezes—watches Blaine smile somberly.

                “After I came out to my parents—or, after my sister came out for me—things were…tough. My parents were never really _religious_ , but they were religious enough, I guess. They were very old fashioned, though. Very conservative. And in general I don’t think they ever knew what to do with me. I was this wildly outgoing, creative, out-of-the-box kid, and they were quiet and homely. It just got hard living at home. Really tense. We fought, which was not something we had ever done. And it wasn’t screaming and yelling. It was this passive aggressive form of…ignoring me. Things were said. Elaine told me there was always a place for me in her house. I never really believed her. But I’d always show up for sleepovers and spend the weekend and make Michael invite me over. And Michael took so much pity on me that he always did.”

                Blaine coughs, and swallows again.

                “After a while Elaine told me to move in. Then when Michael went off to school in Seattle, she pushed me into his room. Became a surrogate mother to me.”

                Kurt’s throat is a little swollen and he feels like he’s swallowing a baseball.

                “I’m glad that you had her,” he whispers, bringing Blaine’s hand up to his mouth and gently kissing it. Blaine smiles back.

                “She’s great,” he whispers.

                “I kind of want to hug you right now,” Kurt whispers.

                Blaine quirks his lip up, still leaning back. “Only kind of?”

                “Okay. Completely,” Kurt amends.

                Blaine lets go of Kurt’s hand and sits up straight, opening his arms wide.

                “Have at it,” he says.

                Kurt leans forward and hugs Blaine tight, resting his chin on Blaine’s shoulder. He’s trying to impart friendship and happiness and protection into one little hug, and he’s not sure if he is. He wants Blaine to know that he’s there for him, that he will always have his back. He wants Blaine to know that he’s sorry for him and all that he has to endure, past and present. He hasn’t known Blaine for too long, but he already likes him and knows him enough to know that he of all people didn’t deserve what has happened to him.

                He squeezes Blaine one more time before letting go and sitting back on his butt.

                “I wasn’t planning on this taking a turn for the worst,” Blaine says. “I was kind of hoping our first date would be a much happier occasion.”

                “I can assure you it was a happy one,” Kurt smiles. “I even got my own glass cup out of it.”

                “Oh whatever will you do next!” Blaine says, voice in falsetto.

                “I don’t know. But this will be hard to top,” Kurt blushes.

* * *

                “Blaine,” Kurt grunts, poking Blaine who is half asleep on top of him.

                “MMrrmphh,” Blaine responds, digging his head further into Kurt’s chest.

                Kurt lifts his hand off of Blaine’s back and rubs his eyes.

                “Blaine,” he says a bit more seriously, rubbing Blaine’s back. “I should go,” he yawns.

                “Wha?” Blaine looks up from where he’s sprawled across Kurt, eyes puffy from sleep.

                “It’s two in the morning.”

                “We fall asleep?”

                “Yeah. Ugh, I’m exhausted.”

                “Sleep here?” Blaine asks.

                Kurt considers it, but in the end he thinks he’d rather be back in his dorm so he can brush his teeth and wash his face and get out of these clothes. He’s missed the last buses, so he’s gonna have to walk. It’ll be cold, but he thinks in the end that it will be worth it. It’s not going to be too long of a walk.

                “I think I’m just going to head home,” Kurt says apologetically.

                “Alright,” Blaine replies, leaning up and getting off of Kurt. He puts his hand out for Kurt to grab and then pulls him up.

                Kurt shakes his arms and rolls his neck, getting his body used to being awake. He grabs his jacket and scarf off the flimsy dining room table while Blaine tells him he’ll be right back and heads upstairs. A few seconds later Blaine is walking down the steps with his jacket on and a hat

                “What are you doing?” Kurt asks.

                “Walking you home,” Blaine replies, heading to the front door.

                “No you’re not,” Kurt says.

                “Uh, yeah I am. Oh, and don’t forget your glass.”

                “Blaine. You can’t walk me home. That’s ridiculous. You won’t get home until like four in the morning.”

                “Yeah, but I’m not letting you walk home alone.”

                “I’ve done it before,” Kurt counters back.

                “But not at two am, alone.”

                Kurt exhales. He’s exhausted and a bit on edge. There’s no easier way to piss Kurt off than make him mad when he’s tired.

                “Yeah, but I don’t want you walking home alone either,” he says.

                “Then spend the night here,” Blaine says matter of fact.

                Kurt sighs. “I really just want to be in my bed. I have to pack tomorrow.”

                “How ‘bout this,” Blaine says, leading Kurt away from the door and back to the living room. “I’ll set my alarm for eight. You can wake up and be home well before nine in the morning. And you can stay in my bed. Nice and warm. Clean sheets—I swear.”

                Kurt already knows he lost the battle, so he just unwinds his scarf. “Can I borrow Listerine?” He asks.

                Blaine smiles. “You can borrow whatever you want.”

                He ends up sleeping in Blaine’s bed. Blaine sleeps in his roommate’s bed, and while part of Kurt wants to tell Blaine that they can share, they’ve done it before, another part of him is happy that they get some alone time at the end of the night.

                Before Blaine leaves the room he sets the alarm for eight and kisses Kurt’s cheek.

                “Tonight has been awesome,” he whispers.

                “I had a lot of fun,” Kurt blushes.

                Blaine smiles back and leaves the room, and Kurt walks to the bed and takes his clothes off, jumping under the blankets in just his briefs. It doesn’t take long for him to pass out.

                When he wakes up the next morning at eight, he puts his clothes back on and washes his mouth with Listerine and expects to slip out the front door. But when he reaches the kitchen Blaine’s at the table eating cereal in his boxers.

                “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to eat here or not,” he says, gesturing to the empty bowl and spoon next to him.

                Kurt wasn’t planning on it, but he can’t say no to a sleep rumpled Blaine, so he plops down next to him and pours himself a bowl of Life.

                Afterwards Blaine walks him to the door and hands over a brown paper bag that’s been folded closed.

                “I had fun last night,” he says, looking into Kurt’s eyes.

                “Me, too,” Kurt replies, smile gently tugging at his lips.

                Blaine smiles back and mutters, “I’m glad.” Then he says, stronger, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

                He leans in and Kurt’s smiling too wide that it’s barely even a kiss. When Blaine pulls back Kurt protests.

                “Nuh uh. One more time,” and leans forward, pressing his lips to Blaine’s again.

                “Text me when you get home?” Blaine asks.

                “Absolutely.”

                “Oh, and, don’t open that bag until Christmas. If possible.”

                Kurt raises his eyebrows in question.

                “There’s a gift in there,” he says. “If you can’t fit it into your suitcase that’s fine.”

                “It’s a pretty big bag, Blaine,” Kurt laughs.

                “Okay. How about this. Your glass thing is in there. Take that out. There’s also a small box that’s wrapped. That’s fragile. Bring that one home. The other thing can get folded or whatever. If that one doesn’t fit in then just leave it in Portland.”

                “Okay,” Kurt responds.

                He pauses before leaving and leans in one more time.

                “Since I won’t see you for a month,” he responds, kissing Blaine.

                Blaine laughs and Kurt opens the door and walks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are more than greatly appreciated. Expect the next update in 3 days.


	4. Chapter Four

                Ohio is….nothing like Oregon. And Portland is nothing like Lima, and for that Kurt is grateful. A week into his Winter Break leaves him wanting for the atmosphere of Portland—the friendly residents, the cool shops and restaurants, the hiking trails and woods. But also Blaine.

                They text a lot, time zones be damned. They occasionally talk on the phone, and when Blaine’s working the night shift at his security job, he’ll often times Skype Kurt if Kurt’s home, and they’ll spend hours talking and laughing, sometimes watching movies together. They make sure to start the film at the same time, and they always end up laughing at how they can hear the sound through the computer.

                It’s crazy how being apart can make Kurt feel so much closer to Blaine.

                He gets picture messages, as Christmas gets closer, of Blaine with Michael and then Blaine with Elaine. He’s happy to finally be able to put faces to names, and seeing and hearing how carefree and smiley Blaine is makes Kurt realize that that’s a part of Blaine that’s often missing when they’re in Portland.

                When he brings it up to Blaine, Blaine just shrugs on Skype.

                “I’m happy here,” he says.

                “Are you not happy at PSU?”

                “No, I am. It’s just…when I’m here I have no responsibilities. No work. No bills. Everything is taken care of before. And for a few minutes I can just be me. I can just be twenty-two and carefree and act like a college kid. And I’m surrounded by _family_.”

                Kurt bites his tongue, stops himself from saying all the things he wants to.

                _But they’re not your family_.

                _Why aren’t you pissed? Your family was terrible to you._

_Why do you have to work so much anyway? Can’t you take a school loan out?_

                “I’m glad you’re happy,” he settles on, because it’s true. “When you’re happy, I’m happy.”

                Blaine’s cheeks go rosy and even Kurt can pick that up on the grainy webcam.

                “Good,” Blaine sighs. “Because I am happy.”

                Kurt wants nothing more than to kiss the bashful smile off of his face.

* * *

                “You’ve been spending a long time smiling and staring wistfully at your phone,” Kurt’s dad comments one afternoon.

                They’re in Home Depot shopping for some supplies so Burt can fix the guest bathroom. It’s old and out of style, and for years Kurt’s dad has been working on it whenever he has the time: retiling, putting a new toilet and sink in, fixing up the shower.

                His plan for this weekend is to scrub down the tiles in the shower and insert a new shower head and tub faucet. He asked Kurt to come and help him pick out something that looks good. Finn’s the one who actually uses that bathroom—Kurt has his own in the basement and Burt and Carole have one in their bedroom—but he looked at Burt like Burt was on crack after being asked his decorative opinions.

                “I have not!” Kurt shoots back.

                He hasn’t told his father about Blaine. Not for any particular reason except for the fact that he’s not sure what to say. Up until two weeks ago they were just friends.

                Burt fixes him with a stare and Kurt cracks under the pressure.

                “Oh, fine,” he sighs. “I may be seeing someone,” he smiles, embarrassment flooding his cheeks.

                He’s never had a problem sharing details about his romantic life with his father. Burt always wants to know, always wants to see pictures, and was always extremely patient when Kurt was in high school and had crushes on boys—famous and non-famous alike—and had to talk about them 24/7 and show pictures of them to everyone and swoon rather loudly and obviously. But with Blaine something feels different. He stopped his exaggerated swooning mechanisms after he graduated high school and has opted for a more subdued tactic, but there’s still something about Blaine that makes Kurt want to both jump up and down with joy and scream at the top of his lungs, and keep his excitement quiet and in his pocket for only him to treasure and help grow.

                “Want to tell me about him?”

                Kurt bites the inside of his cheek thinking as he walks down the aisle. He’s not sure what information to divulge. In the end his excitement wins out.

                “His name is Blaine,” he starts with, smiling already. He can’t control his lips and he’s smiling so broadly his cheeks are starting to hurt.

                “We met at a party a few months ago. We have a mutual friend, some mutual acquaintances.” He stops to check out the bath tub faucets, figuring out which one he likes best.

                “And?” Burt pushes.

                “And I really like him,” Kurt says looking up at his father, still smiling.

                “Ever gonna tell me about him?” Burt ribs, smirking.

                Kurt laughs. “No. I was going to keep it a secret until after we were married and adopted an Asian baby.”

                “Smart aleck,” Burt replies, squeezing the back of Kurt’s neck.

                “It’s all very new. We were friends for a bit. Went on a date the Friday before I came home. So really, it’s all very new.”

                “And you’re happy?”

                “Incredibly so,” Kurt replies.

                “Good. I’m glad,” Burt says, patting Kurt on the shoulder.

                Within the next two hours they have everything they need and are back at home eating sandwiches and chips for a late lunch, talking about classes and neighborhood gossip and what’s going on in the world.

* * *

                For most of Winter Break Kurt hangs out with friends. He goes to a few parties, celebrates New Years’ in Columbus trying to sneak into bars with his fake ID. It works a few times. But in the end he and his group crash at a friend’s house in the city, watching fireworks from the roof and drinking more alcohol than necessary.

                Blaine’s in Seattle for New Years’, and he and Kurt keep up a semi-constant stream of drunk texts throughout the night that Kurt looks back on the next day and blushes.

                He gets a phone call from Blaine in the evening when Kurt’s finally back at home and nursing the afterglow of a bad hangover with the only cure he knows—more alcohol.

                “Hey,” he says in the phone after looking at the caller ID.

                “So last night was fun,” Blaine says.

                “I have to admit, I don’t remember half of it,” Kurt replies, taking a sip of his vodka cranberry. His father looked at him dubiously when he saw Kurt pour himself the drink, but didn’t say anything about it.

                “You texted me a shirtless picture,” Blaine responds.

                Kurt puts his drink on the table beside him and groans, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

                “I saw that,” he admits. “I don’t remember doing it.”

                “I don’t know _how_ you did it,” Blaine laughs. “What did you tell your friends when you stowed away to the bathroom and began undressing?”

                “I do recall reading a text message before that with you daring me to send you a nude. So you can’t say this is all my fault,” Kurt retorts.

                “While it wasn’t the nude I wanted, I am very happy for the picture. Mainly because you look like a drunk mess. It will be good blackmail one day.” Kurt can practically hear the smile on Blaine’s face.

                “I can’t believe I actually did that,” Kurt laughs. “Ugh. What is wrong with me?”

                “Hey! Don’t be mean to yourself. I enjoyed that picture.”

                “Please don’t tell me you jerked off to that monstrosity of a grainy cell phone pic.”

                “Alas, I did not. But I did shove it in the air rather emphatically and scream, ‘THAT’S MY BOYFRIEND EVERYONE. THAT’S MY BOYFRIEND.’ It wasn’t until this morning that I actually realized you are, in fact, not my boyfriend.”

                “Now you’re going to have to call them all back and relay the information,” Kurt says, grabbing his glass and drinking again. “By the way, thank you.”

                “For what?” Blaine asks.

                “For the Christmas gifts.”

                On Christmas Eve Blaine texted Kurt, telling him to open the square box. Inside was the Christmas ornament that Blaine had made on their date. Next to it was a note:

                _I thought of all the places I could put this, with you would be the best._

                Kurt immediately put it on his tree and took a picture, sending it to Blaine. Blaine immediately called him back and Kurt thanked him, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt as his dad looked on from the couch. When he woke up for Christmas the next day and opened Blaine’s other gift, he was surprised to find a beginner’s level guitar book. On the inside Blaine wrote, _To help teach you to play guitar. But really this gift is more for myself. Because I like teaching you something new. Gives me an excuse to touch you._

That gift led to an even larger blush and then a hint of guilt, as he didn’t get Blaine anything.

                “Well, I’m glad you like them,” Blaine replies. “I’m excited to teach you more on guitar.”

                “Better watch out. One day I might be better than you.”

                “Dear God, I hope so,” Blaine groans. “I fucking suck at guitar. If I’m even half as good a teacher as I think I am, you’ll be better than me in no time.”

                “That’s not true!” Kurt defends. “You can’t say you suck at guitar when you can play jazz songs from memory.”

                “Sucky versions of amazing jazz songs, Kurt. I put those artists to shame.”

                “Everyone puts those artists to shame,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes. “Stop comparing yourself to the greats.”

                “Is this your way of saying I’ll never be a great jazz musician?” Blaine asks, sarcastic defeat evident in his voice.

                “Did I just ruin all of your hopes and dreams?” Kurt asks, playing along.

                “You crushed them,” Blaine sighs.

                “Cheer up, chap. You can always be a groupie.”

                “Looks like that’s all I’ll ever have in life.”

                They spend the next hour talking. Kurt asks about Michael and Seattle and all the adventures Blaine is having, and Blaine answers in detail, giving lofty descriptions of the parks he’s visited and the lake he went kayaking in, and the parties he’s been to and the people he’s met. Kurt listens reverently, a smile on his face.

                It’s never been so easy, he thinks, making the transition from friends to something more.

* * *

                Blaine gets back to Portland on Saturday. Kurt on Sunday. Classes start on Monday.

                It was weird, at first, for Kurt, getting used to the way Portland State is set up. It’s trimesters instead of semesters, and he’s in school longer than his friends are. He gets out later than them. In the summer when all of his friends are posting pictures to Facebook and partying and hanging out, he has a month of school left. And at the end of the summer, in August, when all of his friends go back to school, he’s stuck at home in Lima for a month by himself because his classes don’t start until the first week of October. He also hates hearing his friends bitch and moan and complain about finals week, because all of his friends only have finals twice a year. He has them three times a year. So it took him a while to get used to the set up, but now that he’s halfway through his second year, he’s finally comfortable with the way things are.

                What he’s not comfortable with is the number of times he can see Blaine that first week.

                Blaine goes right back into his work schedule the minute he gets home. He has a graveyard shift that Saturday after he gets back, works at the University on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and does his homework in between.

                He and Kurt talk, and while Blaine admits on multiple occasions that he wishes he could spend more time with Kurt, he doesn’t do anything about it.

                Kurt had all these lavish ideas of seeing Blaine that first week and spending time together and making out and playing guitar and listening to music.

                In reality he doesn’t see Blaine until Friday evening.

                Blaine doesn’t have any classes on Friday, but he works nine to five. He tells Kurt to come to his pace afterwards and they can eat dinner and hang out.

                The minute Kurt walks into Blaine’s house he’s enveloped in a hug, and all the stress he had about not seeing Blaine floats away. Blaine doesn’t work tonight, thankfully, and they have the option of going to a party together and seeing their friends. Instead they end up talking and cuddling on the couch and making out. It’s exactly what Kurt wanted to do, just delayed by five days.

                When Blaine sucks lightly at the sensitive skin behind his ear while they’re lying down on the couch, Kurt thinks he could probably forgive Blaine for working so much if it means he gets to share this with him.

* * *

                “So I was thinking,” Kurt says softly the Wednesday after. “We should go out on another date this weekend.”

                They’re sitting in the library at a small table meant for only two people in the corner of the third floor. Blaine’s working on some engineering or physics homework—Kurt can’t even understand half the words written on Blaine’s worksheet—and Kurt’s reading a play for hi theatre class, _Long Day’s Journey into Night_.

                “I definitely second that date plan,” Blaine says, still writing furiously on graph paper.

                “When are you free?” Kurt asks, still looking up from his play.

                “Uhm,” Blaine says distractedly. He goes quiet for about a minute while he writes. “Sorry. Had to finish that problem. I’m uh. I actually don’t think I’m free this weekend,” he says, looking at Kurt apologetically. “Next weekend?”

                Kurt tries hard not to physically bristle at that.

                “Sure,” he says. And maybe he says it rather coldly, but he can’t help but feel a little dejected. How is he supposed to date a guy that literally has no time to date?

                “Kurt,” Blaine sighs, and he sounds tired. He reaches across the table and grabs Kurt’s hand, forcing Kurt to put his play down. Blaine squeezes it and looks into Kurt’s eyes. “I’m sorry, okay. I really, really am.”

                Kurt releases a pent up breath.

                “I know. I’m sorry. I’m not angry or anything. Just a long week. Whoever thought syllabus week would be so intense?”

                “I know what you mean,” Blaine says, still holding Kurt’s hand. “I’m already behind and we haven’t even been in class a week.”

                Kurt lets out a wry chuckle.

                “Ugh. This is gonna be a tough tri. I’m taking more credits than I ever have.”

                “Yeah?” Blaine says. “Why?”

                “I’ve decided I want to double major.”

                “Kurt! That’s awesome. Theatre and Marketing?”

                “Yeah. The Theatre major is going to be harder to complete on time because it requires so much outside work. But I really want it. It’s just fun to be a part of.”

                “What kind of outside work?” Blaine asks, threading his fingers with Kurt’s and scooching his chair closer.

                “Like, I have to help out on plays, doing set work or costuming or lighting or sound. Not just acting. So it requires a lot of weekends and time and rehearsals.”

                “You can do it,” Blaine replies matter of fact.

                “I know I can,” Kurt replies with confidence. “It’s just that…you work _all_ the time, and I don’t want this to get in the way of us seeing each other.” He can’t really look at Blaine when he says that, embarrassment flooding his cheek.

                “Okay. First,” Blaine starts. “Never don’t do something because of me. Don’t _ever_ let me stop you from doing something you want. Second. Kurt,” he says seriously, squeezing Kurt’s hand again. “We will find the time to hang out and go on dates. I promise. We will just have to manage our time a bit more efficiently.”

                “Promise?” Kurt asks.

                “Yeah,” Blaine responds.

                They disentangle their hands, preparing to go back to their own work, when Kurt blurts out, “God. I feel so needy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

                “You’re not needy,” Blaine replies. “I want to see you, too. I wish we saw more of each other,” he shrugs.

                “Well, at least we’re on the same field.”

                Blaine looks at him with eyebrows furrowed and his lip pulled up into a small smile.

                “Same field?” He chuckles.

                “I was trying to come up with a sports metaphor!” Kurt admits, smiling.

                “Never do that again,” Blaine shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

                “Ugh. I am. This has been the strangest week.”

                “Shake it out,” Blaine suggests. “Next week will be better.”

                After that conversation Blaine and Kurt do make more of a concerted effort to see each other, even if it’s for only a few minutes in between classes or work.

                They eat dinner together when they can, and Fridays become their unofficial date night.

                Blaine gets out of work at five and he doesn’t have to be at his night job until around eleven or midnight, so he normally goes home and naps for an hour and Kurt meets him at his place at six or seven for dinner. Some nights they’ll go out and watch a movie or go somewhere. And on a few occasions Blaine is able to leave his work study job early, affording them a few more precious hours together.

                They spend two months like this, and Kurt’s happy. He’s working lights on the school’s next play, and Blaine has already promised to come to at least two of the shows—they end before his shift starts anyway, so it works out rather perfectly.

                It’s the beginning of March and the weather is taking a small turn for the better, and Kurt and Blaine are hanging out in a local park eating and talking and occasionally playing Frisbee. Kurt sucks at it, but Blaine is steadfast in his belief that practice makes perfect. It’s a rare Saturday where Blaine has the whole day off. He doesn’t have to work until Monday, and Kurt is making the best of it.

                “I’m happy the weather is nice today,” Blaine says.

                They are lying on a towel in shorts and t-shirts, their light jackets thrown off to the side. Blaine’s sitting up and Kurt has his head in Blaine’s lap, staring at him through his sunglasses.

                “Blaine, when was the weather _not_ nice?”

                “It’s been winter!” He says. “It’s been cold.”

                “You call fifty degrees cold?” Kurt responds.

                “Yeah!” Blaine laughs.

                “One day you’ll experience an east coast winter and you’ll probably die, actually.”

                “The prospect of snow is terrifying,” Blaine retorts. “My socks would get wet.”

                “We wouldn’t want that,” Kurt shakes his head.

                “I guess I could buy boots.”

                “That’s one solution.”

                “What’s another?” Blaine asks.

                “Stay on the West Coast,” Kurt laughs.

                “I think it’s about time I spread my wings,” Blaine says, nodding his head.

                “Just don’t spread them too wide. It would be tragic if they got caught in something.”

                Blaine laughs and shakes his head.

                “So on a side note, I was thinking.”

                “That can never be good,” Kurt responds

                Blaine cards his fingers through Kurt’s hair, and Kurt sighs in contentment.

                “I was thinking that you know what would be really awesome?”

                “A taco right about now.”

                “Even better than a taco,” Blaine says.

                “Blaine. Nothing is better than a taco,” Kurt replies passionately.

                “I think you’ll like this idea better.”

                “Wow me with your wisdom,” Kurt says, gazing up at Blaine, who’s wearing a pair of jeans rolled up into capris, a black and white striped shirt, and a pair of black sunglasses.

                “How awesome would it be if we were boyfriends!” Blaine smiles.

                Kurt almost chokes on his saliva.

                “Well. That is certainly different than my taco idea.”

                “I was thinking that we should probably be boyfriends.”

                “Yeah? And what’s the thought process behind that?” Kurt smiles.

                “It just makes sense, y’know? It’s the next step in the process. We court. We date. We eventually commit ourselves to each other for eternity.” He says this all nonchalantly, moving his head back and forth with every situation he says.

                “One of us gets knocked up and bears our children.”

                “Exactly,” Blaine responds. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

                “Well then I suppose you’re right. We _should_ be boyfriends,” Kurt responds, voice high as he plays along.

                “Whew!” Blaine sighs. “I’m glad I got that over with.”

                “Anxious?” Kurt laughs.

                “Not as anxious as I am to officially change my Facebook relationship status!” Blaine replies.

                “You’re such a bro,” Kurt shakes his head.

                “Your boyfriend is a bro.”

                Kurt nods his head in agreement. “My boyfriend is a bro.”

* * *

                “So I was thinking,” Kurt says one Saturday, kissing down Blaine’s chin, making his way to Blaine’s neck. “That we should do something for Spring Break.”

                “Yeah?” Blaine says breathlessly.

                They’re lying on Blaine’s bed in just their boxers, taking advantage of a random free day Blaine has before he has to leave for his graveyard shift that night.

                “Yeah,” Kurt says, nuzzling into Blaine’s neck.

                “Do what?” Blaine asks, squeezing Kurt’s sides, huffing out a grunt when Kurt’s lips attach to the sensitive spot on his neck and suck.

                “Go somewhere. Like Canada,” Kurt says, kissing Blaine’s collarbone. “Or Seattle.”

                “Ungh,” Blaine responds. “Keep going.”

                Kurt moves down to Blaine’s nipple and gives his a soft kiss, watching as Blaine shivers.

                “You up for it?”

                “Hmm?” Blaine says, hands moving to Kurt’s thighs, forcing Kurt to straddle Blaine.

                “For traveling together?”

                “Can’t,” Blaine replies, moving his head to catch Kurt’s lips in a kiss.

                Kurt gives in, but pulls away quickly. Blaine moves to Kurt’s chin instead, leaving kisses in his wake.

                “Why?” Kurt asks, voice less breathy.

                “Can’t afford to,” Blaine replies, still kissing Kurt’s jaw line.

                “Why not?” Kurt pushes.

                “Flights and hotels and food…too much money.”

                “But we could get it cheap,” Kurt supplies, sitting back on Blaine’s legs.

                Blaine releases a sigh and rolls his eyes.

                “Kurt, please. Can we just go back to what we were doing?”

                “No. I wanna talk about this.”

                “Okay. What would you like to talk about?” Blaine asks, voice snippy.

                “Why you don’t want to go on vacation with me, for starters.”

                Blaine sighs.

                “Kurt. There is nothing I would like more than to go on vacation with you. But I just _can’t_.”

                “Why?” Kurt asks, petulance underlining his curious tone.

                Blaine runs his hands up and down Kurt’s naked thighs, no doubt as a way to sooth Kurt.

                “One, I don’t have the money. And two, even if I did…Kurt,” he sighs emphatically. “A week is a long time to take off of work.”

                “But you _could_ do it, couldn’t you?”

                “Theoretically I could ask my boss for it, yeah.”

                “And would he give it to you?”

                Kurt watches as Blaine thinks about it for a few seconds. “Yeah. He probably would.”

                “Then why don’t you ask?!” Kurt says.

                “Because like I said, Kurt,” Blaine reinforces, tone strong. “I don’t have the money in the first place. That’s like a thousand dollars I could use for something else!”

                “Pick up a few shifts now,” Kurt suggests.

                “No,” Blaine says more forcefully.

                “Please?” Kurt asks, batting his eyelashes, hoping to seduce Blaine into the idea.

                While he and Blaine get every Friday to hang out, Kurt still wishes they had more time together. This isn’t a problem he’s had with any of his previous boyfriends. And although they’ve worked around scheduling conflicts and often spend the night at each other’s places during the week, there’s nothing Kurt wants more than to spend an entire week uninterrupted on a fun adventure with the guy he’s sort of kind of completely falling for.

                “No,” Blaine says again, vehemently.

                “Pleeeaaaseee?” Kurt whines, and he knows he’s starting to sound desperate, but he doesn’t care. He knows this is an argument he can win.

                Blaine shakes his head and pushes Kurt off, and Kurt falls to the bed.

                “Hey!” He shouts.

                Blaine bends over and grabs his shirt from the floor and throws it on, grabbing his jeans next.

                “I’m done with this,” he says, seemingly to no one in particular, and he walks out of the room.

                Kurt spends the next fifteen minutes sitting in Blaine’s bed, feelings wavering from anger to hurt to guilt to pain. When Blaine never comes back Kurt puts his own clothes on and walks out of the bedroom.

                Blaine’s curled in on the corner of the couch, strumming his guitar lazily.

                “Hey,” Kurt says warily.

                Blaine doesn’t reply, just keeps playing, staring at his fingers strumming and moving.

                Kurt takes a tentative step forward, not sure if he should grab his stuff and leave or try and sort this whole thing out. His first priority is to gauge Blaine’s feelings. He’s not sure what exactly he’s walking into.

                But a few minutes standing awkwardly leaves Kurt more than a little put out.

                “So are we just not going to talk about this?” He asks.

                Blaine plays a few more chords.

                “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Kurt,” he responds drily.

                Kurt doesn’t know what he wants Blaine to say either. He just wants Blaine to say _something_.

                Kurt crosses his arms and grabs his shoulders, feeling defenseless and scared.

                When nothing more happens and nothing else is said, Kurt wavers.

                “Okay then,” he whispers. “I’ll just…”

                Blaine still doesn’t do anything, so Kurt walks back to Blaine’s room to grab his jacket and put his shoes on. He passes the living room again, Blaine still sitting quietly with his guitar. He walks out of the door not sure how he should feel.

* * *

                The total silence doesn’t even last the rest of the day.

                Kurt wants nothing more than to break it, but he thinks the ball’s in Blaine’s court now, so he waits anxiously. He heads to the library after an hour of frantic pacing in his dorm, and gets some homework done. Afterwards he trudges to the cafeteria to grab some food, scarfs it down, and steals a sandwich for later, throwing it into his bookbag.

                When he gets back to his dorm room his roommate is out. Kurt assumes he’s pregaming or hanging out with friends. He was actually kind of hoping Martin would be there so he would have something to stop his mind from wandering. It’s the beginning of March and the trimester ends in a few weeks. He figures it’s about time they have their first real fight, but it surprises him how off keel he feels.

                He spends the rest of the night lying in bed with his laptop watching Netflix and staring at his phone. Of course the one time he wants a distraction is the one time he gets absolutely no text messages from any of his friends.

                A little after eleven his phone lights up with a text.

                _Can I call you tomorrow?_

                It’s from Blaine, and Kurt isn’t sure whether he should heave a sigh of relief or intake a breath of anxiety.

                **Yeah. You at work?**

_Heading there_

**If you get bored you can call tonight**

_I don’t want to keep you up_

**Blaine, I won’t be sleeping.**

_I’ll think about it. I just have some things I need to sort out first_

**Okay**

In the end Kurt spends the next few hours drifting in and out of an uncomfortable sleep. At three in the morning his phone begins buzzing, and Kurt lazily grabs it and swipes to accept the call.

                “Hey,” he says, voice a little raspy from sleep.

                “I hope I didn’t wake you,” Blaine says, sounding tired.

                “No. You didn’t,” Kurt says, even though it’s half a lie. He thinks Blaine knows that, too. If he does he never says anything.

                “So can we not fight? Like, I just want to preface this by saying I don’t want to fight with you. Fighting with you is the _last_ thing I want to do.”

                “Yeah,” Kurt heaves out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to fight.”

                “There are just some things I have to say, and I don’t know how to say them.”

                Kurt swallows, not sure if Blaine is taking time to collect his thoughts or if he is waiting for Kurt to interject somehow.

                “You know I’ll always listen, right?” Kurt asks. “

                “Yeah,” Blaine says. “This is just…hard, for me.”

                Kurt can just imagine Blaine sitting at the security desk in his security outfit, school book open in front of him, hair a mess, dark shadows under his eyes. Blaine has four more hours left in this shift.

                “Can we meet tomorrow?” Blaine blurts.

                “Yeah,” Kurt replies. “Uh, my place or yours?”

                “Whatever you want. I really don’t care.”

                Kurt knows that Blaine’s place would probably be easier, this way Blaine won’t have to wake up after a long night shift and get dressed and bike over. Also, Blaine has the luxury of having his own room.

                “Your place. Whenever you want. There will be more privacy there.”

                “Yeah. Okay. Probably in the late afternoon or evening.”

                “I can bring something to eat,” Kurt says. “Make dinner or something.”

                “That sounds perfect,” Blaine replies, and Kurt thinks he can almost hear a ghost of a smile. “Kurt?” Blaine asks.

                “Yeah?”

                “I really like you,” Blaine replies, voice quiet yet sturdy, strong but sad.

                “I really like you, too,” Kurt whispers back, eyes beginning to water against his will.

                They talk for another hour about nothing special. They talk about music and movies and books they’ve read. Blaine tells Kurt about a project he’s helping his work study boss with at the school—how he’s helping to oversee a water filtration system that can hopefully be implemented one day in third world countries.

                When five-thirty rolls around and the sun is threatening to rise, Blaine says goodbye.

                “Go to sleep,” he says. “There’s no reason we both have to stay up.”

                “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Kurt asks.            

                “Actually,” Blaine smiles, “You’ll see me today.”

                Kurt releases an exhausted laugh and says goodnight.

 


	5. Chapter Five

               When Kurt knocks on Blaine’s door at five-thirty that night, he’s trying hard not to shake or stutter. He has a grocery bag filled with store-brand pasta, pasta sauce, and chicken, and he plans on just whipping up a quick dinner. He’s hoping that spending some time in the kitchen working on something methodical and easy, yet something that involves thought, will help him calm down.

                But when Blaine opens the door and then opens his arms, Kurt falls into them effortlessly and hugs back.

                “This feels good,” Blaine whispers into Kurt’s ear.

                Kurt can’t help but agree.

                They make their way into the kitchen and start cooking together. Blaine gets the water going and Kurt grabs the olive oil and spices and starts seasoning the chicken.

                They work quietly, occasionally interjecting mindless sentences about the food. When everything is done a half an hour later, they take their food to the table and sit down next to each other. Blaine immediately locks his foot with Kurt’s, wrapping it around Kurt’s ankle. Kurt can’t help but breathe out a subtle sigh of tension, and they eat their food and talk about nothing particularly important.

                After that they do the dishes and Blaine disappears into his room, coming back a moment later with his guitar.

                “I figure we can play a bit.”

                “Sure,” Kurt says, taking a seat on the ground. Blaine follows suit and hands the guitar to Kurt, and they run through some scales and short songs that Kurt has memorized. Any time Kurt messes up he feels Blaine’s hands on his, readjusting his fingers or helping his with a strum pattern.

                They laugh and sing, and Blaine coaxes Kurt into singing along with “Eleanor Rigby” which Kurt can play a simple version of on guitar. Turns out he hasn’t quite mastered singing and playing at the same time, and his terrible performance leads to laughter and the breakdown of tension that seemed to fill the air previously.

                Blaine takes the guitar back and breaks into a much more enjoyable performance of “I’ve Just Seen a Face,” interjecting every female pronoun with a male pronoun, and making Kurt smile bashfully at the way Blaine keeps looking at him.

                And while the antics have led to laughter and smiles, Kurt can’t help but be reminded that they’re still fighting. Or at least sort of fighting. He can’t forget that Blaine had told him that he has thoughts he wants to share with Kurt. But Kurt doesn’t know how to bring them up, and he doesn’t want to sour the newfound happy mood, so he hopes that when Blaine is ready he will bring that up himself. For now he just enjoys the music.

* * *

                Nothing gets said that night. They hang out and talk about random things and make out on the couch like teenagers, never taking any clothes off and never copping a feel. Ever so occasionally one of Blaine’s roommates will walk in and either make their presence known with a witty quip or totally ignore them. It’s fun and silly and they smile into their kisses, and Kurt feels like everything is restored.

                Before he even has the chance to mention leaving and going home, Blaine invites him to spend the night. They walk into Blaine’s room with their hands clasped and take their jeans off so they can be more comfortable, hanging out in nothing but briefs and t-shirts. It’s nearing eleven, and they end up cuddled on the bed watching a random TV show neither of them have heard of but end up enjoying quite a bit.

                They put the laptop away just after midnight and cuddle in close, Blaine wrapping his arm around Kurt’s front and scooting close to his body, placing a kiss on the back of Kurt’s neck. Kurt entangles their fingers and kisses the back of Blaine’s hand before resting their enclosed hands on his chest, right next to his heart.

                “Goodnight,” Blaine says into Kurt’s shoulder.

                “Night,” Kurt responds.

* * *

                Things seem to fall to the wayside between them. And while Kurt hasn’t forgotten about their little tiff, he’s sort of afraid that Blaine has.

                The following week is spent much like it always is: they talk a lot and see each other occasionally. They try and grab dinner together or lunch, but often just end up seeing each other at night when Kurt spends the night at Blaine’s twice.

                A week later classes are winding down and finals are being given and everything is crazy and hectic and they both spend more time in the library than they do at home. But it’s worth it, because they both finish their last finals on Thursday, officially starting their Spring Break. They have a week and a half until their next trimester starts, and they plan on spending it together. In Portland.

                Not much was really said about it, but through lazy afternoon talks and midnight texts, it was somehow established that Kurt was staying in Portland for Spring Break and Blaine was only picking up a few extra shifts at the security job, giving him most of the week off.

                Kurt packs a duffel and drops it off at Blaine’s, since he knows he’ll be spending a large majority of the time there anyway, and Blaine had told him to just bring some clothes and a toothbrush.

                They spend Friday biking on a trail outside the center of the city. Kurt doesn’t have a bike, but one of Blaine’s roommates lends Kurt his. They pack a lunch and bring water and spend all Friday biking and eating and walking and enjoying nature. Kurt takes pictures with his iPhone, of the fields and the trails and the bugs. Pictures of Blaine with the sun framing his face and his curls windblown and loose, smile radiating and eyes squinting in the light.

                He’s never been much of a nature person, but he sees that changing in himself now. It’s just one more thing he can add to his new and improved list of qualities that seem to have grown ever since coming to college. He’s more laid back and easy going. He thinks he’s more fun now, too. But he doesn’t know if he can chalk that up to going to college or just growing up.

                College has done wonders for him. And every time he goes home and spends a few days with his friends and family, he always ends up getting squeezed a little bit harder in hugs and congratulated.

                “You’ve really grown into yourself,” his father says far too frequently, a tear in his eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

                Kurt never knows what to say back. He feels like it’s a bit out of line to say, “Yeah. I have.” But he feels it. He feels more like himself than he ever has before.

                And days like this, in a grassy field with his boyfriend and a bike and a dirt smidge on his pants, he feels so totally comfortable.

                In the later afternoon they start packing up and heading home. Kurt is spending the night, again, at Blaine’s. Blaine works at eleven and asked Kurt to spend the night so that when Blaine stumbles home at seven-thirty in the morning, he’ll have a warm body to curl up against.

                Kurt whole-heartedly agreed.

                They make pasta for dinner and demolish that and a box of chicken nuggets. Turns out spending the whole day biking trails leaves them both voraciously hungry and unable to stop eating, and when Blaine leaves for work a little after ten, he leaves with a bag of food that Kurt prepared for him.

                They text until two in the morning when Kurt passes out, and the next thing Kurt knows a cold body is attaching itself to him. Kurt groans and rolls onto his side, letting Blaine manipulate him into the perfect little spoon position before he passes out.

                Kurt wakes up first the next morning, naturally. It’s a little after ten in the morning, and he assumes Blaine will be passed out cold until noon the absolute earliest, so he makes himself at home. He grabs a shower and a small bowl of cereal and sits himself on the couch in the living room with Blaine’s roommate watching TV.

                When Blaine still isn’t awake at noon, Kurt decides to spend his time putting together breakfast for Blaine. Mainly because he is tired of watching TV and feels like he has to do something with his hands.

                He grabs some eggs and bread and steals Blaine’s roommate’s bacon (with permission, of course) and goes about making a breakfast big enough for Kurt himself to steal some of it. When he finishes it he puts it in the warm oven and lets it sit, assuming Blaine will be up soon, and goes back to the living room.

                “Blaine not up yet?” Brett asks from the couch.

                “Don’t think so.”

                “That kid works too damn much. I have no idea how he does so many night shifts,” Brett shakes his head.

                “Tell me about it,” Kurt replies, looking ahead at the TV. He has no idea how Blaine is able to do these night shifts so often yet still go to school and have a day job and a boyfriend and get good grades and have a social life.

                He’s too afraid that if Blaine had to give one of those things up it would be him.

* * *

                A little after one in the afternoon Kurt hears soft shuffling upstairs. Just a few minutes later he hears the clunking of feet jumping down the steps and is greeted by a very tired looking Blaine stretching, his shirt riding up a bit and showing his midriff.

                “Morning, sleepy head,” Kurt says from the couch.

                Blaine smiles and walks over and collapses on the cushions, leaning his head against Kurt’s shoulders.

                “I’m awake. I swear,” Blaine says, burrowing his nose into Kurt’s shirt.

                Kurt laughs.

                “Awake enough for breakfast?”

                “Later,” Blaine says. “I don’t want to move.”

                “But I made eggs and bacon,” Kurt pouts.

                Blaine lifts his head up and smiles, his face bright and open. There’s a piece of sleep crust at the corner of his right eye, and Kurt moves his thumb up to sweep it off.

                “You’re the best,” Blaine says as Kurt stands up, putting a hand out for Blaine to grab.

                Kurt pulls him up and Blaine attaches himself to Kurt’s back, arms snaking around and grasping Kurt’s chest and stomach. Kurt laughs and continues moving, dragging Blaine to the kitchen. He takes the food out of the oven and places it on the table, putting two pieces of bread in the toaster oven.

                “Don’t touch the plate, Blaine,” he calls out from the kitchen. “It’s hot.”

                He comes back with two pieces of buttered toast and grabs the chair next to Blaine. Blaine’s at the head of the table, so they’re seated in a corner, and Blaine sporadically feeds Kurt pieces of eggs while Kurt munches on bacon.

                “Plans today?” Kurt asks.

                “No idea,” Blaine responds.

                Blaine has off tonight. He doesn’t have to go into work until Sunday night at eleven, and Kurt’s hoping they can use this extra free time to hang out. However, he doesn’t want to monopolize all of Blaine’s time.

                “Why don’t you go hang out with friends?” Kurt suggests.

                “Why don’t I just hang out with you?” Blaine smiles back.

                Kurt laughs. “Because we were together yesterday. Go catch up with friends.”

                “Most of my friends went away for Spring Break though,” Blaine points out.

                “Yeah, but there are a few that are around. I know for a fact that Mary is here until Monday.”

                “Oooh. You’re right. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

                “Well go shoot her a text,” Kurt says.

                “I will. In a bit. I left my phone upstairs. But you should come over tonight.”

                “Go hang out with friends tonight!” Kurt says, smiling.

                “Whyyyyyyy?” Blaine whines.

                “Because you need to see your friends. And I plan on spending most of break with you anyway. So go be social.”

                “Ugh. Being popular sucks,” Blaine replies sarcastically, taking a rather large bite of his toast.

                When he’s finished eating he does the dishes and shoots a text to a few friends. He sets up plans for the night while Kurt sits next to him on the bed, kissing his ear and his jaw and his neck.

                “You know, if you wanted me to hang out with other people, you shouldn’t have started this,” Blaine says, voice breathy.

                “Mmmm,” Kurt says, sucking on Blaine’s neck. “You have a few minutes until you have to meet up with anyone.”

                “Yeah,” Blaine exhales.

                “Enough time for a blow job,” Kurt says, sinking to the floor.

                He pulls Blaine’s pajama pants down to his ankles and stares up at Blaine, smiling.

                “Fuck,” Blaine says, eyes smiling as he stares down at Kurt.

* * *

               They spend Sunday at a park. A different park than before, but still a nice one. There are hiking trails and biking trails, a big pond where people go fishing. And if you’re adventurous enough you can hike through secluded and overgrown areas, ignore the No Trespassing signs, and climb to the top of a very large and mountainous hill, and look out on top of a waterfall.

                They spend an hour there, watching the water fall and hit the rocks, taking pictures and videos, and screaming loudly so they can be heard over the noise. After that they make their way down to the pond and each pull a towel out of their back packs, placing it on the ground and shucking their shirts so they’re both in just their bathing suits. They lay down and tan and read a little bit until they get a bit too chilly and have to put their shirts back on.

                “So I want to talk to you about something,” Blaine says from next to Kurt.

                Kurt rolls onto his side so he can look at Blaine, who still stays looking at the sky.

                “Yeah?” Kurt says, pushing his sunglasses back into place.

                “I wanted to talk about the other week. Our…fight.” Blaine swallows, and Kurt watches as his Adam’s Apple bobs.

                “I’m sorry about that,” Kurt admits. “I…I was just being selfish. And I wasn’t listening to you.”

                “No, that’s the thing,” Blaine says, voice strong. “You’re _allowed_ to be selfish.” He turns to look at Kurt, hands clasped behind his head, and Kurt wishes he could see Blaine’s eyes behind those black sunglasses right about now.

                “I think I would rather _not_ be selfish,” Kurt responds.

                “That’s not what I mean,” Blaine says, sitting up on his butt and crosses his legs.

                Kurt follows suit.

                “What I mean,” Blaine continues, “Is that you’re allowed to want stuff in this relationship. You’re allowed to want to do things with me and go places with me. I’m _glad_ you want that. You have no idea what it means to me that you actually _want_ to take vacations with me and spend time with me. That you’re practically moving in my house this week!” His voice is passionate, and Kurt puts a hand on Blaine’s knee, hoping to calm him down. “I just…hate that I can’t give all of that to you.”

                “Blaine,” Kurt starts. “It was really unreasonable of me to expect that you would drop everything and go on a trip with me.”

                “Okay, yeah,” Blaine concedes. “Maybe it was. But it wasn’t unreasonable for you to bring that idea up. Cause I really wanted to do it Kurt. I just can’t. Not right now.”

                Kurt nods because he understands.

                “I have fifteen dollars in my bank account on a good day,” Blaine says.

                And this is new. This is new, because he and Blaine never talk about money. Not in such detail. Not beyond the idea that Blaine has to work to pay for rent and Kurt only works for a few extra dollars in his pocket.

                “I’m literally broke. But I look at that as a good thing.” Blaine continues, scratching his arm.

                “Why’s that?” Kurt asks, curiosity coursing through him.

                “Because when I graduate I’ll be at zero. I’m going to be able to start fresh. I’m here on scholarship. I have no student loans. No debt. I have a credit card I keep on top of to help me build credit, but I’m so meticulous about it that I’m never more than a hundred dollars deep, unless I need to buy something big. And like, all these kids are going to be graduating sixty grand in debt and I’m going to be graduating at zero.”

                “I didn’t know you were here on scholarship,” Kurt says. He had always assumed that Blaine was taking out loans, although this doesn’t surprise him too much, the more he thinks about it. Blaine is a really smart person, and he’s almost always top of the class.

                “Yeah. I applied here as an independent. So I didn’t have my parents’ income to report. I got a scholarship for being poor, basically. That combined with a few grants because of my grades and everything is completely paid for, except housing and books and all that stuff.”

                “It’s just—” Blaine pauses, taking a big breath, and Kurt knows he’s just collecting his thoughts. “I don’t want people to feel sorry for me. I don’t want _you_ to feel sorry for me. But this is my life. And I don’t have a choice. These are the cards I was dealt and this is where I am. I spent two years bitching about it and being reckless and stupid, and now I’m taking responsibility.”

                Kurt doesn’t really know what to say. He has no words percolating in his brain. He just sits there with his mouth open a little bit as he tries to think of something to say.

                “So here’s where I want to propose something,” Blaine says.

                Kurt nods dumbly.

                “I want to spend this coming tri working a lot. I just want to spend the whole trimester picking up as many shifts as possible. My summer internship doesn’t pay, so I’ll be working two months for free, essentially, working only weekends at security. But I was thinking that after those two months—if you were okay with it—I could come down to Ohio and spend a few weeks with you?” Blaine’s voice rises in question, and Kurt can’t help but blink stupidly.

                “You want to fly down to Ohio?” Kurt asks, wanting to make sure he’s getting the gist of the conversation.

                “Yeah. If you’re okay with it.” Blaine says again.

                “If I’m okay with it?” Kurt breaks out into a smile and tackles Blaine, pushing him onto the ground. “As if I wouldn’t want you with me in the summer!” He practically yells.

                Blaine laughs and they hug and Kurt kisses him. After they get themselves together and sit back up, Blaine starts talking again.

                “The downside to that, though, is I’ll have to work a _lot_ the next few months, saving money. Because I really want to visit you, but I have to start saving a few months in advance. Cause when I’m with you in Ohio I won’t have a paycheck coming in.”

                “Yes. Yes. You work. All the time. I am very much okay with that.” Kurt replies. Because if he has to sacrifice seeing Blaine a few times a week in exchange for seeing him every day for two weeks straight, then he can _definitely_ do that.

                “I’ll get to meet your father,” Blaine smiles.

                “You’ll get to meet my friends,” Kurt continues.

                “And your stepmom,” Blaine replies, leaning forward and knocking his nose against Kurt’s.

                “And my bedroom,” Kurt grins back.

                “Think we’ll be able to get away with sex at your place?” Blaine asks.

                “Oh definitely.”

                “Think we’ll be able to get away with sharing a bed,” Blaine asks, eyebrows quirking. He reaches over and grabs Kurt’s hands, interlacing their fingers.

                “I would say the odds are probably in our favor.”

                “Really?” Blaine says.

                Kurt nods.

                “I think I’m liking this idea more and more.”

                Kurt laughs, leaning forward and placing a kiss on Blaine’s lips.

                “This will be a fun summer,” he says.

                “The funnest,” Blaine replies, kissing Kurt’s cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic was an absolute delight to write. I had so much fun piecing together this story and sending it off to Alianne to read. I like this fic so much that I'm even considering writing a sequel--Kurt and Blaine's summer together in Ohio. But before I even think about doing that (it's not a definite, just a consideration), I've decided that there's a little one shot I want to put out in this verse. So be on the lookout for that (if you like this story and want to read more).
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH to every single person who kudosed or commented. It meant the world to me.

**Author's Note:**

> I always appreciate feedback, no matter how small.


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